A Traitor Too Few
by hbwgonnabe
Summary: Finished! An afternoon outing detour leads to armed robbery, kidnapping, attempted murder and espionage.
1. Default Chapter

"You could have done this Monday," complained blond-headed, blue-eyed, six foot, seventeen-year-old Joe Hardy to his brother who was a year older and an inch taller.

"Well, I'm not," brown-headed, brown-eyed, Frank responded. "So you're just going to have to be patient for a few minutes."

Frank parked the van across the street from the First National Bank and both boys got out. "The matinee starts in fifteen minutes," Joe said, crossing the street with Frank and going inside.

"We'll make it," Frank snapped. He was getting tired of Joe's complaints. Joe had been the one to forget to make the deposit yesterday so if Frank wanted to do it today, Joe had no one to blame but himself. Just once, Frank wished Joe would do what he was told. His brother's mulish independence was really starting to annoy him.

Frank paused and ran a hand through his hair. "Look, it won't take long," he told Joe. "Just have a seat over there and I'll be done in five minutes." Frank pointed Joe in the direction of some chairs then walked up to the teller's window to make his deposit.

"Hi," Joe said, sitting down beside a man in his thirties. The man looked a little nervous. Joe looked at the man closely and noticed red freckles on his arms and face which contrasted with the black dye job on his hair. He kept swallowing as though his throat were extremely dry and his brown eyes kept darting to the video cameras along the top of the wall which monitored the bank and then back to his watch.

"What time is it?" Joe asked, when the man looked at his watch for the sixth time in a minute.

"What?" the man asked, startled.

"What time is it?" Joe asked, repeating his question.

The man looked at Joe for the first time. He noticed how closely Joe was watching him. "Uh, it's eight minutes to three," he answered.

"I must be slow," Joe said with a frown, looking at his watch. "I've got ten till." As soon as the words were out of his mouth, three armed men came striding into the bank.

"Back away from the alarms boys and girls," the heaviest of the trio ordered. "If the police arrive, we start killing."

Joe looked at the three men. All were wearing Halloween masks and had on black jeans, blue sneakers, black sweaters and gloves. Without thinking, Joe looked down at the feet of the man beside him. He saw blue sneakers. He let his eyes travel upwards. The man was also wearing black jeans. By the time Joe's eyes returned to the man's chest, a gun was pointed at him.

"Do what you're told and no one gets hurt," said the same robber who had spoken before. "Everybody move over to the safety deposit area."

Joe started to move but the man clamped a hand on Joe's arm. "Not you," he said. Joe swallowed as he realized it hadn't been nerves causing this man to attract his attention, but excitement!

Frank was with the other patrons and bank employees being herded into a back room. He noticed Joe was missing and looked over to where he had last seen him.

'Great!' Frank thought. 'The one time Joe does do what I tell him and he winds up beside a bank robber.'

"Wait!" Frank shouted as they were about to be shut inside. "My brother's still out there."

"Don't worry," Frank was told. "We're taking him for a little ride." Then the heavy metal door was slammed shut. Frank felt sick as he heard the lock click on.

Frank felt a hand on his shoulder and spun around. Andrew Carruthers, the bank's president, was standing there. "The monitors for the cameras have a receiving station at our security firm," he told Frank, recognizing him. Frank and Joe had proven themselves as detectives and were locally as well known as their father, Fenton Hardy, a former New York City police officer, who had resigned to become a private investigator.

"But will they arrive in time to help Joe?" Frank asked with worry.

By this time, Joe was wondering the same thing. After the others had been secured, Joe had been forced to sit on the floor and been handcuffed to a table leg.

The robbers were meticulous. They began at one end and cleared out each drawer. Then, the one whom Joe had been sitting with sat down at a computer. He, too, now wore gloves, and worked for a few minutes.

This was apparently the last thing they had planned for then they came to Joe. He was released until he was standing and then handcuffed with his hands behind his back.

Opening the bank door, they walked out and right to a van which had pulled up as soon as the door had been opened.

The freckled man with the dye job climbed into the front while Joe was pushed into the rear, followed by the three remaining robbers.

"You can let me out anywhere," Joe said as all five men, counting the van's driver, remained silent.

The heavyset robber backhanded Joe and then pulled off his mask. The other two also removed their masks. Joe felt a trickle of blood roll down his chin as the man who hit him turned to the front of the van.

"Why did we bring this kid?" he asked the man Joe had decided to call Freckles.

"He got too good a look at me," Freckles replied.

"So did the cameras," Joe said, earning him another slap on the face.

"But the cameras have been erased," Freckles told Joe with a smile.

"That's what you were doing at the computer terminal," Joe guessed out loud. He was about to be hit again but Freckles grabbed hold of the other man's hand when he raised it.

"No, Freddie," Freckles said with an evil smile. "Don't waste your energy. This young man won't be around long enough to cause any problems. What's the harm in a question or two?"

"Why did you only take the money in the drawers?" Joe asked. "They don't really keep much there."

"The money was not our goal," Freckles replied, looking at Joe with interest. "You are quick to have noticed so much," he added.

"Not quick enough," Joe muttered but was overheard.

"Really, you can't deride yourself for not noticing sooner. You were scarcely there for five minutes," Freckles sardonically consoled Joe.

"And your watch was fast," Joe retorted.

Freckles face hardened. "You are very clever," he said. "How did you guess?"

"You were acting like someone was late," Joe said, looking him in the eyes. "And then these bozos show up just as soon as my watch flips to ten minutes till."

"This chat has been amusing," Freckles said as the driver brought the van to a stop. "But I am afraid you are out of time."

Freckles climbed out of the van and walked over to the edge of the cliff on which they were parked and looked down. "Bring him," he ordered Freddie, who sat with the rear of the van open.

Freddie grabbed Joe's arm and pulled while one of the others pushed Joe from behind. Soon, he was out of the van and being forced toward the edge.

Freckles looked at Joe in amusement. "Any last words?"

"You won't get away with this," was all Joe could think to say. As everyone laughed, Freddie gave Joe a hard push. 


	2. Chapter Two

Wait!" the driver shouted and jumped forward to grab Joe's belt. He pulled Joe back to safety. 

"What are you doing?" Freddie demanded angrily.

"I know who this kid is," the driver replied.

"All right, Greg," Freckles said, looking as angry as Freddie. "Who is he and why shouldn't we kill him?"

"He's Hardy's brat," Greg answered. "We kill him and every Fed in the country will be after us. But if we keep him," he added with a glint in his eyes, "his old man will have to do whatever we tell him."

"Let's keep him," said the robber who was a full six feet tall with black hair and green eyes. "I'd love to make Hardy jump through hoops," he added, grinning.

"I agree with Jim," said Freddie, looking at Joe. "I'll even take personal care of pretty boy here," he added, pushing Joe down. He pulled off his belt and bound Joe's feet together.

"Can't have you getting away from us now, can we?" he asked, his nose almost touching Joe's as he spoke.

"What did you have for lunch?" Joe demanded, wrinkling his nose. "Garlic bread with anchovies?"

Freddie stood up, breathing hard with fury, and started to kick Joe only to have Freckles step between them. "Gag him," Freckles ordered Steve, the fifth robber. He was a quite one with wispy blond hair and alert hazel eyes. Joe thought he looked like the most intelligent of the lot.

"Let's get going before someone comes along," Freckles said, going back to the van and climbing in. Freddie pulled Joe up and carried him over his shoulder to the van. He tossed Joe inside, causing him to hit his head against the side of the van, then climbed inside followed by the others. Greg closed the back and got in the driver's seat.

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"It's been three hours," Frank said to Mr. Carruthers. "Shouldn't your security firm have notified the police by now?" he asked, his patience long gone.

"I don't know what's wrong," Mr. Carruthers replied. "This door isn't on a time lock during the day so the police should have no problem getting in."

"Which means they aren't here," said a discouraged patron.

"Can't we get out from in here?" asked a short, heavy-set man for the hundredth time.

"The door only opens from the outside," Mr. Carruthers stated firmly, for the hundredth time.

"I hear something," someone else said. "Listen." Sure enough, there was a loud click and the door was opening. In stepped two uniformed police officers.

"What took so long?" demanded the obnoxious man Frank and Mr. Carruthers had been suffering with.

The police ignored the man and looked at the bank's president. "What happened?" the officer asked.

"We were robbed at gunpoint," Mr. Carruthers stated. "We were forced in here about three hours ago. Why didn't you get an alert from our security firm?" he asked in confusion.

"I can't answer that, Sir," the officer said. "But if you and the others will just be patient, we'll have someone here to check things out soon."

"Is Joe okay?" Frank asked, stepping forward.

"Frank!" said the officer in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"We were making a deposit when the robbers got here. They kept Joe out," Frank added nervously. "Is he out front?"

"No one is out there," he told Frank gently, placing an arm on Frank's shoulder to prevent him from rushing out. "I know you're worried, but you need to stay here until the crime scene is secured. I'll put out an APB on Joe," he promised as he let Frank go and backed up.

"We're going to need a statement from everyone," the officer continued loudly. "Please be patient. After you give us your statement, you may leave."

After what seemed like forever, Frank was finally allowed back into the lobby of the bank. Ezra Collig, Bayport's tall and graying Chief of Police, was standing by a computer terminal where someone was operating the keyboard. As he got closer, he saw the familiar brown hair and broad shoulders of his father.

"What are you doing here?" Frank asked his dad. He knew his father was busy working on a case involving the theft of various top secret files.

Mr. Hardy looked up from the keyboard. "I was at Thompson Security when the call came in about the robbery," he informed Frank. "The MO sounded familiar, so I came to check it out."

Frank knew MO stood for modus operandi, meaning method of operation. "Where's Joe?" Mr. Hardy asked Frank.

"You didn't tell him?" Frank asked Chief Collig.

"Tell him what?" the chief demanded. He had been awoken twenty minutes ago and informed of the bank's robbery. He had worked two shifts straight and not crawled into bed until ten o'clock that morning.

"They took Joe with them," Frank told the chief and his dad.

"We've already got an APB out on Joe," said Officer Williams coming over to them. He was the officer Frank had talked to earlier.

"Why wasn't I informed?" Chief Collig bellowed.

"No time, Sir," Officer Williams said. "It's been one thing after another ever since we discovered the robbery." Chief Collig accepted this and nodded his dismissal.

A few minutes later, Mr. Carruthers came over. "Mr. Hardy, you have a call on line two," he said.

"Thanks," Mr. Hardy said and picked up the phone still staring at the screen in front of him, which held the security passwords for the bank's video cameras.

"Hardy here," he said into the phone.

"Hello, Hardy," came a friendly voice. "I guess you are trying to figure out how we cleared the cameras."

"What makes you think that?" Mr. Hardy asked, motioning for Chief Collig to trace the call, and then switching on the speaker phone.

"Because I'm logged onto you," was the reply. "Can I be blunt?" the voice continued. "We nearly killed someone you know today."

"If you hurt him," Mr. Hardy began, only to be interrupted by laughter.

"We already have," the voice assured Mr. Hardy. "But he's still alive. Whether he remains so is entirely up to you," the voice continued.

"What do you want?" Mr. Hardy demanded.

"Turn the computer off now," he was ordered. Mr. Hardy did so. "Very good," the voice congratulated. "You take orders better than your son. Stay away from Thompson Security. Stay away from Hanover Industries and stay away from the bank," the voice ordered. "If you are caught anywhere near these places, physically or electronically, you will only have one son left," the voice ended harshly and the phone was slammed down.

Chief Collig looked over at Officer Williams who shook his head. "Not long enough," he said.

Frank, his face pale, looked at his father. "What can I do?" he asked.

"Nothing," ordered Chief Collig before Mr. Hardy could speak. "If you do, Joe dies."

"If Dad does," Frank reminded him. "I can go in where Dad can't," he argued. "I just can't use the computer."

"It's too risky," Chief Collig retorted.

"They've already hurt him," Frank declared angrily. "And we don't know how bad." Frank's eyes were suspiciously bright as he glared at Chief Collig. This was one time Frank was going to investigate even if it meant disobeying the chief and his dad.

Mr. Hardy, however, understood exactly how Frank felt. He stood up and placed a hand on Frank's shoulder. "Let's go home," he said. He held up a hand as Frank started to argue. "The longer I am here, the more we put Joe's life in jeopardy." Frank closed his mouth and followed his father out to the van.

"This is my fault," Frank said on the way home as guilt ate at him. "Joe wanted to wait until Monday to make the deposit so we wouldn't miss the movie but I couldn't wait," he explained as his dad looked over at him.

"It's no more your fault than it is mine or Joe's," Mr. Hardy told him. "None of us could have known what was going to happen."

Frank, ever the logical one, thought about what his father had said and realized he was right. "So, what happens now?" he asked.

"I'm going to have Sam arrange clearance for you at Hanover Industries and Thompson Security," Mr. Hardy said. "Some contracts were stolen detailing a new aircraft for the government," he continued. "Thompson Security controls the security at Hanover and handled the issuance of the contracts."

"How did the cameras black out?" Frank asked.

"They didn't," Mr. Hardy said, surprising him. "The cameras are operated by a special satellite developed exclusively for them by Hanover Industries. The satellite has a five minute delay to allow any accidental alarm triggers to be phoned in."

"And because the cameras work through the satellite, they also have the five minute delay," Frank said, understanding the problem.

"Exactly," Mr. Hardy agreed. "The night the files were taken, not only did no alarm ring, but the security cameras showed no one entering or leaving."

"So not only is the alarm being blocked, someone's sending a false feed," Frank surmised. "But how does the bank robbery connect to you case except for the obvious," he wondered.

"I don't know," Mr. Hardy admitted with a sigh. "Maybe if we find the connection, we'll find out who is behind this."

"I'm glad mom's out of town," Frank said, pulling the van into the driveway. "She worries enough about us without this."

Mr. Hardy nodded his agreement as he climbed down from the van. "Come on," he said to Frank, walking toward the house. "I'll show you what I have so far."

Mr. Hardy opened the front door and went inside followed by Frank. Frank pushed the door closed behind him and was about to follow his dad upstairs when he heard a noise from the kitchen.

Mr. Hardy, having heard the noise as well, came back downstairs. Going to the kitchen door, they took up positions on each side.

Frank held up three fingers, indicating on the count of three they would burst in on the intruder. Before Frank could drop even one finger, the door was pushed open.


	3. Chapter Three

Frank and Mr. Hardy rushed the figure silhouetted in the doorway. All three went down. 

"Joe!" Frank shouted, looking at the person beneath him.

Joe moaned in pain. "Can you please get off me?" he asked, straining each word.

Mr. Hardy stood up, followed by Frank. They helped Joe up and led him into the living room. Frank went for the first aid kit after Mr. Hardy flipped on the lights.

Joe's face was bruised where Freddie had slapped him around and his wrists were rubbed raw from working himself free of his bonds.

Joe still wore a handcuff on his left wrist. He had managed to bang his wrists against the concrete wall he had been placed against until one of the cuffs had been broken.

"Ouch!" Joe winced, and jerked away from the alcohol swab Frank was applying to his sore face.

"Sorry," Frank said, although he had been as gentle as possible.

"There," said Mr. Hardy, removing the other cuff from Joe's wrist.

"Thanks Dad, Frank," Joe said, leaning back. He was exhausted. The crooks hideout had been a deserted warehouse about two miles away. After being left in the building, it had taken him almost an hour to break the handcuff and untie his feet. After freeing himself from that, he had discovered he was locked in. Unable to break the door or pick the lock, he had decided his only means of escape was through the skylight.

Using old crates to create a makeshift ladder, he had gotten at least fourteen feet off the ground when he stepped on a rotted crate and went crashing to the floor, ripping his clothes and giving him more reasons to wince in pain.

He rebuilt the ladder, checking the crates as he stacked them this time, and made it to the skylight. Not wanting to frighten anyone by hitching a ride in his present condition, he had walked home.

He closed his eyes. He was going to tell his dad and Frank what had happened, but he was so tired. A minute later, he was asleep.

When he awoke, the sun was shining through his bedroom window. 'Frank and Dad must have carried me to bed,' he thought as he sat up. Closing his eyes and moaning, he pushed back the cover and stood up.

"How are you feeling?" Frank asked, walking into Joe's room carrying a tray.

"Like I was run over by a freight train," Joe said, sitting back down. Frank set the tray down beside Joe.

"Eat up," Frank urged him. "Dad and Chief Collig are down the hall. They want to know what happened yesterday." He watched as Joe dug into the eggs and sausage. "You can shower and change then come into Dad's office," Frank said as Joe picked up his orange juice and polished it off. "We'll be waiting."

Twenty minutes later, Joe walked into Mr. Hardy's office and sat down. Then he told everyone what had taken place since he and Frank had entered the bank.

"Think you could pick them from some mug shots?" Chief Collig asked.

"Sure," Joe affirmed. "Especially Greg."

"Why him specifically?" Frank asked.

"It's his eyes," Joe said after thinking about it for a minute. "The left one looks like he's always looking behind him."

"After you finish at headquarters, I want you two to go over to Thompson Security," Mr. Hardy told his sons. "Frank you are going to be a technical engineer's assistant in the visual department. Joe, you are going to need a disguise. I want you to apply as a general handyman. You'll be able to see everyone who works there and notice anything out of the ordinary."

Mr. Hardy reached behind him and took a book from his bookcase. Handing it to Frank, he said, "You won't need as elaborate disguise as Joe, but you will need one. While Joe's looking at mug shots, you need to skim this book. It explains how satellites are used for alarm systems. It's only a primer, but it might help you spot any irregularities."

"What are you going to do?" Joe asked his father.

"I'm going back to Hanover Industries," he said. "I have a few leads to follow up on."

"Joe, you can ride with me to headquarters and Frank can pick you up later," Chief Collig suggested.

When Frank picked Joe up at the police station, he was driving his girlfriend's blue Nova and sporting a mustache. His hair was a shade darker and he was dressed in a three-piece suit.

"I'm going to drop you off at Callie's. She'll help you with your disguise," Frank told Joe. "I don't think it's a good idea for us to go together," he added. "And don't forget to use an alias," he reminded Joe as he pulled up in front of Callie Shaw's house.

A blond-headed, seventeen-year-old girl came down the walkway. "What did you think of him?" Callie asked Joe, her blue eyes sparkling.

"Not bad," Joe admitted, getting out of the car. "It looks real at any rate," he added.

"Wait until you see what we have in mind for you," she told Joe. Waving goodbye to Frank, she led the way inside.

"Hi, Joe," Callie's father called from the kitchen. "Callie, take him up to the bathroom," he ordered his daughter.

"Dad is getting into this," Callie told Joe as they went upstairs. "He used to do the make-up for the Bayport Foundation of the Arts when they put on a performance."

"Here we go," Mr. Shaw said, coming into the bathroom. He looked at Joe through his wire glasses and studied him. "When we are finished, even Frank won't recognize you," he promised.

Joe got a temporary perm after having his hair dyed a dull reddish-orange. A light base foundation was put on to help hide his bruises and freckles were added to his face and arms.

Callie brought in some clothes. "Put these on," she told him. "Then come on downstairs."

Joe looked in the mirror. He barely recognized himself, but he knew his eyes were a dead giveaway. He guessed he would need to wear glasses. He put on the old, faded black jeans and sneakers Callie had brought him. Then he pulled on a tie-dyed tee shirt advertising a rock band Joe liked and went downstairs.

"You look great!" Callie said, praising her father's work.

"One more detail," Mr. Shaw decided as he inspected Joe's disguise. He walked over to the table and picked up a small box. "Put these in," Mr. Shaw told Joe, handing him the box.

Joe opened the lid and grinned. Lying there were a set of colored contact lenses. Joe went to the mirror and inserted the lenses. Looking at his reflection, he knew no one would recognize him.

"Red hair and green eyes?" Callie asked her dad. "Why not brown eyes?" she demanded. "He still looks..." she broke off as her father took over.

"Like a handsome young man," Mr. Shaw finished for her. Joe chuckled.

"That's not exactly what I was going to say," she said with a little pout.

"His appearance has to match his personality in order to be believable," Mr. Shaw informed his daughter.

"Let's have some lunch and then I will drop you off near Thompson Security," Mr. Shaw said with a smile. "I don't know about you two, but the pot roast Karen's cooking smells awfully good." Karen was Callie's mom.

"Thank you Sir," Joe said. "It does at that."

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While Joe was having lunch with the Shaws, Frank was sharing burgers and fries with his supervisor, Anthony Court. "Tell me, Frank," said Anthony smiling across the table at him. "Do you think you're going to like working for Thompson Security?"

"Yeah," Frank said with a grin. "My boss has made it seem like a lot of fun," he added.

"It is," Anthony agreed, getting serious. "Until recently, anyway," he added with a frown. At fifty-five, Anthony was still in good physical condition. He stood five foot ten and had brown hair and brown eyes.

"What happened recently?" Frank inquired.

"There's something wrong with the satellite," he told Frank. "But I can't figure out what. Good thing you are here," he added. "Maybe together we can find the problem and fix it."

"If you don't know what is wrong with the satellite, then how do you know something is?" Frank asked.

Anthony explained about the bank hold-up and a theft at Hanover Industries. "Somehow the camera is skipping time," he ended.

"I thought the satellite was on a five minute delay," Frank stated.

"It is," Anthony concurred. "But the thefts should still show after the delay. Instead, we're getting nothing."

"Could someone send a false feed?" Frank asked.

"I already checked the possibility," Anthony said with a slight shake of his head. "Not only could I not find a trace of an alien feed, but whoever would have sent it would have to of been able to record the area being surveyed and know exactly what time to insert the recording and the people in the room would have to be the same."

"So, an alien feed is impossible," Frank said with a thoughtful frown. "What about a virus?" he finally asked. "Do satellites get viruses?" he added as an afterthought.

"Frank, you're a genius!" Anthony said, standing up. "That would explain the time slip. Let's go back to work. But not the timing," he added, thinking the suggestion through. "But there may be more than one thing working against us here."

On the way out, Anthony told Frank that satellites were basically computers. "The feed goes directly into our computers at the office," Anthony informed Frank. "So naturally they can have viruses."

"But if it is a virus causing the problem, who could have put it there?" Frank asked. "Wouldn't it have to be inserted into the satellite?"

"No," Anthony denied. "The satellite could work just fine, but if our computer system has been breached then the virus would affect the data we receive."

They came to a stop at the red coupe Anthony drove. Anthony walked around to the driver's side and unlocked the door. He was about to climb into the car when a loud bang was heard.

Frank jerked his head around to see where the noise came from but jerked it back when he heard a thump directly across from him. Anthony had disappeared!


	4. Chapter Four

Frank stayed behind the car and waited to see if another shot would be fired. After he felt sure another shot wasn't forthcoming, he hurried over to the other side of the car.

"Anthony!" Frank shouted in alarm, kneeling down to check for a pulse. He reached inside the coupe and used the car phone to call an ambulance.

At the hospital, Frank waited until he had heard from the doctor before returning to work. Anthony had been shot in the lower left leg. He had hit his head when he fell but the doctor had assured Frank he would be all right.

Entering the office he shared with Anthony, Frank paused and looked at the man bending over near Anthony's terminal. "Can I help you?" he asked pointedly.

"I was just checking the outlet," the red-headed maintenance man said in a low voice as he straightened up and turned to face Frank.

"There's nothing wrong with it," Frank declared. "What are you doing in here? This is a classified area," he continued.

"Just my job," Joe said in his normal voice and grinned at the shocked expression on his brother's face. "Mr. Shaw did a great job," he added.

"And how!" Frank agreed before telling Joe about the attack on Anthony and the possibility of a computer virus.

"Think you can find it?" Joe asked.

"I'm going to try," Frank responded with a shrug. "But Anthony will be back the day after tomorrow and if I can't, maybe he can."

"There's one thing I don't get," Joe said with a puzzled frown. "If it's a virus, then what was Freckles doing with the computer at the bank?"

"It may not be a virus," Frank said. "Or he may have been moving funds instead of messing with the satellite."

"Well, I'm off," Joe said, bending over and scooping up a tool kit. "I've got a leaky faucet in the lounge," he added with a grimace.

"Bye," Frank said, already engrossed with the computer.

Joe walked down to the lounge and stopped in the doorway to look at the occupants. Terri Missen, a blond-headed, hazel eyes woman who was Thompson's secretary, stood by a vending machine talking to Cory Haig, one of the technicians. The only other occupant was a young lady with long brown hair. She needed only an inch to be as tall as Joe and she was frowning as she pushed the cold water tap as far back as it would go.

"It leaks," Joe said, coming over to her.

"I never would have guessed," she sarcastically replied, turning around to look at him through narrowed blue eyes.

"Don't bite my head off," Joe retorted. "I'm just here to fix it."

"Sorry," she said giving him a small sigh and a faint smile. "I have a major headache," she added. Joe looked at her hand and noticed she had two aspirins ready to take.

"Rough day?" he asked, sympathetically.

She nodded then took the aspirin followed by a glass of water. "I'm Shandra Simmons," she introduced herself. "I work in accounts."

"Joe Daniels," Joe said, shaking the hand she had put out. "Mr. Fix-It," he added with a grin.

"Well, Mr. Fix-It, I'd better get back to the books," she said.

"I guess I'll see you later," Joe said, grinning at her.

"Dinner?"

"Excuse me?" Joe asked, doing a double take. "I didn't catch that."

"I said, how about at dinner? I make a mean casserole," she tempted him.

"I'd like to," Joe accepted the invitation.

"Great. I'm through at five. If you like, we can go straight to my place after work. The casserole is ready, it just needs to be heated," she added.

"See you at five," Joe agreed, smiling at her. Shandra left the lounge and Joe went to work on the faucet.

"I just can't figure it," he heard Cory say to Terri. "The shipment came in last Tuesday but I can't find it anywhere."

"Who checked it in?" she asked.

"I'm not sure," he answered. "The signature on the invoice is illegible."

"That's the fourth shipment this month we've lost," Terri said worriedly. "We'll never get another weekend off if we can't find out what's going on around here."

"That's for sure," Cory agreed. "This working on weekends is getting really old." He took another sip of his soda then tossed the empty can into the trash. He and Terri left the lounge together, leaving Joe alone. Joie finished repairing the leaky faucet and headed to the next place on his list.

Entering the video control area, Joe was directed to go down the corridor to the last door. Going inside, he gasped. Seated behind one of the desks was one of the bank robbers! Steve glanced up as Joe walked by his desk but showed no sign of recognition.

"I'm so glad you're here," said the room's only other occupant, a short, plump, balding man with brown eyes. "There was a loud pop and my computer went blank. I checked the cord and the outlet was sizzling." The man led Joe over to a desk near the back wall.

Joe bent over to examine the outlet. He took off the cover and looked at the fried wires. "You overloaded the circuit," Joe stated, standing up. "What else do you have hooked up here?" he asked, seeing the six-plug outlet filled with wires.

"The computer was hooked directly into the outlet," the man told Joe.

"Were they hooked in as well?" Joe asked, indicating the outlet strip.

"Well, yes," the man answered hesitantly. "But it has a surge protector," he said defensively.

"You still overloaded the outlet," Joe told him. "Now, what are those cords for?" he demanded.

"The modem, the monitor, a radio, a second modem, the coffee maker, and a television," the man pointed out the cords as he went along.

"A television?" Joe asked in amusement.

"I was watching the play-offs," the man confessed. "With all the circuitry around here, the radio was full of interference."

"Wouldn't the radio cause interference in a set-up such as this?" Joe wondered out loud.

"It's a small one," the man disacclaimed. "AM only and besides, our circuitry runs on an altogether different frequency than AM/FM."

"You will have to leave the TV off," Joe told him. "And maybe the coffee maker and the radio." The man groaned but nodded his agreement.

"I'll run down to the storage room and get some supplies to fix this but it will take about two hours," Joe said, exaggerating the time. "I'm going to have to shut off the electricity for this section until I'm through."

"Harrison, you geek!" Steve shouted angrily. "I've got work to do!" he yelled at Joe. "You'll just have to fix it tonight!"

"Can't," Joe replied cheerfully. "I have to leave by five," he informed Steve. "Security reasons," he added, repeating what he had been told when he was hired.

"When are you turning it off?" Steve demanded of Joe, staring at Harrison as though he would like to kill him.

"In about twenty minutes," Joe answered. Now he realized why Steve had been part of the robbery even though he looked less like a crook than the others. He had an extremely short fuse and practically anything could set him off.

"Go get your supplies and turn off the current," Harrison said, either used to Steve's outbursts or oblivious to the antagonism against him. "Steve and I will wrap up and get out of your way," he promised.

Joe nodded his consent and left. He made a detour by the office Frank was in and brought him up to date.

"How long is it really going to take to fix the outlet?" Frank asked.

"About forty minutes," Joe answered with an indifferent shrug of his broad shoulders. "That should leave me plenty of time to check out his desk and the rest of the office."

"I'll see if I can't tap into what he's been working on," Frank said. "His computer will be down but this place is still on a mainframe. Be careful," he added as Joe started toward the door.

"No worries," Joe replied with a grin and left. Frank watched him leave then sat back down. He had reached the data board for Steve's office when he heard a commotion from down the hallway.

"What's going on?" he asked, stepping out into the hallway.

"Someone was shutting the power off for the video control division and got electrocuted," the petite brunette from across the hall informed him, not noticing the Frank's face turning white. 


	5. Chapter Five

Frank rushed down the corridor until his path was blocked by people. "Excuse me," he said, trying to push his way through the crowd. "I know first aid."

"Too late for that," one man said, shaking his head and grabbing Frank's arm to halt his progress.

Too choked up to speak, Frank jerked his arm loose and backed away from the mob of people.

"Easy," came a familiar voice as he backed into someone.

Frank spun around and gasped in relieved surprise. "You're okay," he said, grabbing Joe and giving him a quick hug. "Who?" he asked, inclining his head toward the crowd.

"Harrison," Joe replied. "He came to make sure I flipped the right panel switch."

"I don't see how Steve saw through your disguise," Frank said in puzzlement. "I didn't even recognize you."

"I doubt he did," Joe stated. "He was really mad at Harrison. He may have called someone to rig it to electrocute him after Harrison had left the room to check on me. That man has one bad temper."

"You'd better get over there and check out the place," Frank advised him. "Harrison may have known what Steve was doing and had him killed for that reason."

Frank waited in the corridor for the ambulance after Joe had departed. He watched the crowd of people hovering nearby and tried to find one who would fit a description of one of the bank robbers Joe had given.

A little bit later, an ambulance arrived with the police. Frank spotted Sergeant Con Riley as he walked down the corridor. Con was an old friend of the Hardys and he would let Frank know if the wiring had been tampered with.

Frank waited until the crowd had dispersed before going over to the brown-haired, brown-eyed officer in his mid-twenties. "Con," Frank said in a low voice so as not to attract the attention of Mr. Thompson who was talking with one of the officers.

Con turned around, looked at Frank, and gave a little smile of resignation. "I should have known," he said, taking in Frank's disguise. "You know, your voice is a dead giveaway?" he asked.

"Only to people who know me," Frank countered.

"What do you know about this?" Con asked, lifting an eyebrow in question. Frank quickly brought Con up to date. "I can't let you go back there, but I will call you tonight with what I found out," Con promised. "And I expect you to keep me posted," he added.

Frank nodded and returned to his office to pick up where he had left off. A short time later, Joe returned. "Find anything?" Frank asked, a little surprised to see him so soon.

"In a way," Joe said. "By the time I got back there, Steve had cleared his desk out."

"Maybe he thinks the police are on to him about Harrison's murder," Frank suggested.

"Or maybe he knows I am free and can identify him," Joe added.

"Or maybe, he didn't want to take a chance of anyone snooping through his stuff and just took it with him and left early for the day," Frank said, frowning. "I guess we will find out later," he added with a shrug of his shoulders.

"I did find a slip of paper with an address on it caught in the back of his top drawer," Joe said, handing the paper to Frank. "We should check it out."

"Right after work," Frank agreed.

"Can't," Joe said and told him about his invitation to Shandra's.

"What about Iola?" Frank asked, mentioning Joe's girlfriend.

"This is strictly business," Joe told him, frowning. "She may know something about what's going on here."

"Maybe," Frank said. "But why do you think she's involved? Weren't your abductors all male?"

"Yes," Joe agreed. "But she does work here and any lead will help."

Frank shot Joe a look that said he wasn't buying Joe's explanation before turning back to his computer. "I found out what Steve is working on," he told Joe. "It's a program that would print up data on anyone who came within range of the video camera connected to the satellite Hanover created."

"How could it do that?" Joe asked.

"It starts with the picture and accesses all files at it's disposal. And since it's a computer, it can interface with all computers until it has attained the data," Frank explained.

"What if someone came in but didn't look like themselves?" Joe asked.

"In disguise, like us, you mean?" Frank asked with a grin. "If no picture can be found, then the computer runs an analysis on facial structure. Failing that, there is a mechanism to check the fingerprint which is run through hospital databases so that even if the person did not have a criminal record, they could still be identified."

"How does it get the fingerprint?" Joe asked in awe.

"I'm not sure," was the reply. "Steve was still working on that. I think, though, the print may be taken through some type of device which will be connected to the door and hooked up to the satellite as well."

"Sounds complicated," Joe remarked.

"It is," Frank agreed.

"Have you found out how they're clearing the tapes?" Joe asked.

"No," Frank said, frowning. "I've been checking for a virus but I can't find anything."

"Keep looking," Joe suggested, standing up. "I'd better get a move on before I get fired," he added, heading toward the door.

After work, Joe met Shandra at her car. "Nice set of wheels," Joe commented, looking at the '57 Chevy in almost mint condition.

"I love old cars," Shandra admitted, grinning at Joe before unlocking the door.

"Me too," Joe told her. "I had a Woody last year," he added, climbing in.

"Had?" she asked after she had gotten in and closed her door.

"Yeah. I found it when I was vacationing last summer. It was really beat up. It needed everything," he smiled, remembering the fun he had. "I like to fix them up but I can't afford the parts, so I made a deal with a collector. I fixed it and he paid for all the parts and gave me a bonus for the work."

"It's great when you can make money doing something you enjoy," she said a bit wistfully, starting the engine and driving to the gate.

"Don't you like what you do?" Joe asked.

"It's a living," she said, shrugging her shoulders and giving a faint smile.

"What would you rather be doing?" Joe asked.

"I've always wanted to be an actress," she replied.

"How did you get into accounting?" Joe asked. "I don't see any relation."

"There isn't one," she responded with a grimace. "My parents felt I needed a solid career so they convinced me to get something I could fall back on in case my acting career never took off."

"What happened?" Joe asked, still wondering how she managed to become a full time accountant.

"As soon as I got my CPA, my dad called my cousin who pulled a few strings and I ended up at Thompson Security. The pay's excellent but the hours don't lend themselves to auditions," she said.

"Do you ever think about quitting and following your dream?" Joe wanted to know.

"Frequently," she replied with a sigh. "I'm saving up. As soon as I have enough to support myself for a year, I'm resigning."

"Good luck," Joe told her. "I hope you make it big."

She glanced sideways at him. "You don't think I'm crazy?" she asked him seriously.

"No way," Joe denied with a shake of his head. "I'm a firm believer in being happy with what you do. Besides," he added with a shy grin. "When you become famous, I can say I knew you when."

Smiling, Shandra pulled off the highway and eased onto a tree-lined street. "Nice area," Joe commented, looking at the Victorian style houses they were passing.

"I know," Shandra admitted. "My cousin rents me the basement of his house. I've got two bedrooms, a living room, kitchen, and a full bath. Wait until you see it. I couldn't believe a basement could be so big."

"What's your cousin's name?" Joe asked.

"Jim Simmons," she answered. "He works at Hanover Industries. He's the one dad contacted when I got my degree in accounting. Jim arranged my job at Thompson." Shandra pulled into the fourth house on the right. Joe checked the address as they pulled in. It matched the one on the page he had found in Steve's desk!

"Do you hang out much with your cousin?" Joe asked casually.

"Not really," Shandra replied. "We generally have dinner together once a week and sometimes we'll play cards or Scrabble if it's raining, but that's about it."

She parked the car and got out. Joe followed her to the back of the house where there was an entrance into her basement apartment.

"Have a seat," she said, gesturing toward a pale blue sofa near the wall in the living room. "I'll put the casserole in the mike and be with you in a jiffy." Joe sat down on the sofa as she left the room. As soon as she was out of sight, Joe reached into the sofa to see if he could find anything to tie in with the case.

All he came up with was a comb and some change. He quickly stuffed it back in and looked beneath the cushions. He found nothing. Not knowing how much more time he had, he replaced the cushions and sat back, leaning one arm over the top of the sofa. Shandra returned less than a minute later.

"It won't be fifteen minutes," she promised Joe. "If you don't mind, I'm going to change before dinner. I hate wearing my work clothes at home," she told him.

"Me too," Joe said. "Take your time," he told her, watching her cross over to the bedroom.

After the door had closed behind her, he got up and went over to the desk which stood in the corner. He pulled out each drawer and gave the contents a quick going over. Then he searched through the papers on the desk. Finding nothing of interest, he began looking under all the furniture. He had just finished his unfruitful search and returned to the sofa when Shandra returned wearing faded blue jeans and a gray tee shirt.

"Come on," she said, coming over to Joe and taking his hand. She tugged on his hand as she backed up. Joe rose and together they went into the bedroom. "For a basement apartment I couldn't believe how spacious this place is," she told him.

Joe took in the four-poster bed, chest, dresser, stereo, vanity and desk with a small shake of his head. "This is three times bigger than my bedroom," he admitted in awe.

She led Joe into the second bedroom. "This one is almost as big as yours," he said. "Do you have a roommate?"

"No," she denied. "This is for guests. Now for the bathroom," she said walking over to a door, which connected the two bedrooms.

"Speaking of which," Joe said with a sheepish grin. "I need to wash up if that's okay?"

"Of course," she said. "I'm sorry. I should have thought of it before. Go ahead and when you are done, come into the kitchen."

"Sure thing," Joe agreed, smiling at her. After she left, he made a search of her bedroom. He had almost given up when he saw a crumpled sheet of paper behind the waste can. He never took time to look at it, but went to the bathroom to clean up. When he was done, he went into the other room and looked around. Finding nothing, he made his way through the dining room into the kitchen.

"I'll take the Jacuzzi," Joe said as he went inside the kitchen. He was referring to his favorite part of the bathroom.

"Isn't it great!" Shandra agreed with a huge smile. "Feel free to use it," she said with a not so shy glance at Joe.

"Um, thanks," Joe said. "Can I help?"

"You can set the table," she told him, opening the cabinet and getting out some salad oil. "The plates and glasses are in the first two cabinets and the silverware is in the third drawer on your right."

Joe set the table while she finished tossing the salad. They chatted about old cars throughout the dinner and discussed the Oscar awards as they did the dishes.

Meanwhile, Frank had finished his day at Thompson Security and gone home. There he had a bowl of soup and a bologna sandwich for dinner then went upstairs and fed some data to his computer. Then he had pulled up a map on his monitor and located the address Joe had found. The owner was Jim Simmons, who had lived there for over three years and worked at Hanover Industries.

Wondering if this was the same Jim who had been involved in the bank heist, Frank headed downstairs. After leaving his father a message telling where Joe had gone and where he was going, he left.

Frank arrived at 1411 Medcliff Drive in just under an hour. He drove past it and parked his car. He crossed the street and walked until he was opposite the house. He was trying to think of a way to get inside when a red-headed guy and a girl with brown hair made their way from the back of the house to the front door. Frank watched as the door opened and his brother and Shandra went inside.

Frank crossed the street and went to a window in the front yard where a light had been turned on. He was grateful the shrubbery was large enough to hide him.

Peering in, he saw Joe, Shandra and another man roughly six feet tall with black hair. They were all seated at a table and a fourth person, with brown hair and a mustache was walking towards a desk on the far side of the room.

Frank was moving to get a better view of him when he heard the rustle of shrubs as they were being pushed aside. He turned his head to see what had caused the noise and found himself facing the barrel of a gun.

"Come on out friend," ordered a gruff voice. "Nice and slow and you may get to live a little longer." 


	6. Chapter Six

Frank was taken inside and led to the room he had been spying on. "What's this?" Jim asked, standing up and coming to stand in front of Frank.

"He was sneaking around and looking in the windows," Frank's heavy-set captor replied.

"Why were you spying on me?" Jim asked.

"I wasn't," Frank denied, shaking his head. "I was following him," he added, pointing at Joe.

"Why?" Shandra demanded hotly, her blue eyes flashing.

"I work at Thompson Security," Frank answered. "He's supposed to be a handyman there but I think he's a spy."

"Why?" asked Frank's captor, looking at Joe.

"He was pretending to fix something in my office today," Frank fibbed. "I had to leave for a minute. When I came back, he was making a copy of one of my files."

"How can you be sure?" Shandra persisted.

"Because after he pocketed the disk, I lifted it on his way out and checked it," Frank answered.

Joe surreptitiously checked his back pocket when he saw Greg, the driver of the van during the hold-up, and Jim's friend, turn to look at him.

"If what you are saying is true, then why didn't you alert security?" Greg asked Frank, returning his attention to the intruder.

"I wanted to find out who he was working for," Frank replied.

"You're a cop?" Jim asked sarcastically.

"No," Frank answered, lowering his eyes and trying to look uncomfortable.

"Then why were you following him?" Shandra demanded, coming over to within an inch of Frank's face and glaring at him.

"I thought if I could get something on him, I could get a raise or a promotion," Frank admitted to everyone.

"Yeah, right," Shandra muttered in disbelief.

"Thompson's been having trouble with their equipment," Frank told her. "If he was responsible, and I turned him in, then I could get a raise at the very least," Frank insisted hotly.

"He can't be responsible. He only started today!" Shandra informed him triumphantly.

Frank started to say something but Freddie, the man with the gun on him, spoke first. "It's time you were leaving," he said, taking Frank's arm and escorting him off the premises.

"The nerve!" Shandra said angrily, then turned to stare at Joe. "Why were you copying his files?"

"I didn't," Joe denied half-heartedly. "He was lying."

"Then why was he following you?" she insisted.

"He was lying!" Joe shouted in his own defense. "He was caught spying and he lied to save his own hide."

"He's right," Greg stated. "I watched you two when you came in. He was nowhere in sight." Greg looked at Joe thoughtfully as he said this. "Shandra," he said, turning to look at her. "Would you be a dear and fix some sandwiches before we start our game?"

"We've eaten," Shandra informed him.

"We haven't," Jim countered.

"Okay," she agreed reluctantly. "I'll bring some chips and cheese to snack on for later," she added before leaving the room.

"Have a seat Joe," Jim urged him as he and Greg sat down. Joe sat back down at the table as Frediie returned.

"Why did you want the files?" Jim asked.

"Don't try to deny it," Greg quickly put in. "I saw you check your pocket when that guy said he had lifted it from you."

"Then why didn't you let him turn me in?" Joe asked.

"Your response first, please," Jim insisted, leaning forward and watching Joe intently.

"I like old cars," Joe stated. "I work on them and sell them. What I would like is to be able to keep one I have worked on. I'm sick of seeing people show off their classics when I am the one responsible for them being in such great condition." He watched to see if they were buying any of it before he continued.

"I thought I could make some extra dough if I could get something and sell it to a competitor of Thompson's," Joe finished.

"And you came here with Shandra in order to spy on her?" Jim asked.

"No way!" Joe denied empathetically. "I really like her."

Jim looked at the other men who each gave a solitary nod as if agreeing on something. "Don't worry about the disk," Jim told Joe, leaning back and relaxing.

"Why?" Joe asked, puzzled.

"We have a business proposition you might be interested in," Freddie told him.

"And that would be?" Joe asked when he didn't elaborate.

"We'll discuss it tomorrow," Jim promised. "We have three more associates to confer with before making you a member."

"Is Shandra one?" Joe asked.

Jim laughed. "Do you doubt you would have her vote if she is?" he asked, evading a direct answer.

"Here we are," Shandra said, entering the room with a tray.

Joe stayed and played cards until after nine o'clock. Shandra drove him to the Motor Eight motel and dropped him off. "How long have you been staying here?" she asked.

"Not long," Joe replied with a small smile, knowing he didn't even have a room there. "And I am not going to stay much longer," he added.

"See you tomorrow," Shandra told him, leaning over and kissing Joe before he got out of her car.

"How about dinner on me tomorrow?" Joe asked. "I need to see Jim after work and I can pick you up at seven?"

"Sounds good," she agreed and left.

Joe called a cab and went home. He found his dad and brother in the living room watching the early news.

"I don't like it," Mr. Hardy said after Joe had brought them up to date. "It's too dangerous."

"How else are we going to find out how they are clearing the cameras?" Joe argued. "And what they are really doing?" he added. "The bank robbery was a farce."

"They did rob it," Frank reminded him.

"But it wasn't really the money they were after," Joe quickly pointed out.

"They play rough," Mr. Hardy reminded Joe. "If they were to discover who you are, they wouldn't stop at beating you up this time," he continued. "They would kill you."

"In this get up?" Joe asked, looking in the mirror at his disguise. "Frank didn't even recognize me."

It took an hour of arguing and nagging, but Mr. Hardy finally agreed to Joe's joining the gang. Joe had managed to talk him into it while Frank went to answer the phone. When Frank came back to report the police thought the death at Thompson had been an accident, he found Joe smiling smuggly and knew the battle had been lost.

The next morning Frank and Joe awoke early to reapply their disguises. "Be careful," Frank reminded Joe for the tenth time. "We're supposed to be enemies and if they catch us together at all, you could blow your cover."

"Don't worry," Joe told him, sighing wearily. First his dad had reminded him half a dozen times and now Frank. "I'll be careful."

Arriving at work, Frank was surprised to see Anthony. "What are you doing out of the hospital?" Frank asked.

"It's going to take a lot more than a leg wound to keep me from finding out what's wrong with our satellite," Anthony asserted as he turned back to his monitor. "Did you get anything done yesterday?" he asked.

Frank took a seat at his computer and told Anthony about his systems analysis and his detailed checks on various programs. "I haven't come across any abnormalities," he concluded.

"Well, let's get back to work," Anthony said, pulling up a menu.

Frank pulled a file from shipping and started reviewing it. With Anthony preoccupied, he sent a copy of it to his own computer at home. He wanted to get a list of shipments and put it against the physical inventory. Maybe he could find out which shipments were being stolen, what they consisted of, where they were from, and for what project they were earmarked.

"Frank," Anthony interrupted Frank's train of thought. "Take a look at this."

Frank went over and stood behind Anthony's chair to view his monitor. "What did you find?" Frank asked, looking at the screen where a menu was displayed.

"Every time I try to pull the file LoLP up, this happens," Anthony said, initiating a command. The screen went black and then the menu popped up again.

"What is LoLP supposed to be?" Frank asked, reaching over Anthony's shoulder and re-entering the command.

"I don't know," he admitted. "But it has over a hundred kilobytes."

"Is there another way to access the file?" Frank inquired.

"Maybe," Anthony replied. "But it will take some time. I'll work on this and you check to see if any other files are acting up."

"Right," Frank agreed and returned to his terminal.

Meanwhile, Joe's job had taken him back to the video control area. Harrison's replacement had arrived and he required a larger work area so Joe had to construct an extension tot he desk.

The room was empty when Joe arrived so he set his tools and the flats down and went to Steve's terminal. Turning it on, he saw the screen flipping every few seconds. After two minutes of this, Joe typed in the file name that kept popping up on the screen. LoLP. Next he took a disk from Steve's new pack and inserted it into the computer. Knowing he didn't have time to download it and read it, he saved it to disk.

He pulled the copy out and slipped it into his back pocket and returned to his scheduled task. Less than five minutes later, the door to the room opened and Steve came inside.

"I thought you would be finished by now," he said, walking in and going over to his desk. He opened the top drawer and dropped two file folders inside.

"I finished the outlet yesterday," Joe admitted. "But your new roommate wants a bigger desk," he added.

"What are you talking about?" Steve demanded.

"Harrison was electrocuted yesterday," Joe told him, realizing Steve really didn't know anything about it. "Thompson's has already found his replacement."

"Great!" Steve said angrily. "Another partner to slow me down." He showed no saddness or joy over Harrison's death. Only disgust at not having the area to himself. "Well, don't just stand there," he added to Joe. "Finish up and get out of here."

"Keep your shirt on," Joe told him. "I'll finish when I feel like it."

"That attitude won't keep you employed," Steve stated snidely, grabbing Joe's arm and pulling him to his feet.

"Maybe I don't need to be employed anymore," Joe returned, pulling his arm free.

Steve looked Joe in the eyes and took note of his belligerence. He also saw a spark of intelligence, so he backed off and smiled. "You're Shandra's friend," he noted.

"What of it?" Joe demanded.

"Any friend of Shandra's is a friend of mine," Steve replied and held out his hand.

Joe looked at Steve for a moment trying to discern if this was some type of trap. After a brief hesitation, Joe took Steve's hand and shook it. At that moment, an alarm blared throughout the room.

"What's that?" Joe asked, looking up at the intercom where the sound seemed to be emanating.

"Fire alarm," Steve told him, heading for the door. "Everybody out."

Joe and Steve raced along with the other occupants from the building. They gathered outside and watched as smoke began billowing out the second floor.

"It started on the second floor," he overheard one man say to another. "One of the computers in 219 blew up."

'219,' Joe thought. 'That's where Frank is working!' 


	7. Chapter Seven

Joe cut through the crowd and ran back into the building. "Hold it, Son," a man said, grabbing Joe by the arm and pulling him to a standstill. 

"I've got to get in there," Joe said in desperation, pulling free and backing up into someone.

"No can do," came a familiar voice from behind him. Joe spun around and went weak with relief when he saw his brother standing there. "Better split," Frank advised Joe, looking around to see if they had been spotted together. Joe nodded and took off.

"I guess we're out of work," Joe said as Shandra came to join him.

"A week, maybe," she said, agreeing with him. "They will have the place fixed by then," she added as they watched the firemen put out the fire.

"Daniels!" Joe heard someone call him.

Joe turned around to see who was yelling at him. "Hello, Sir," Joe said seeing his supervisor.

"Report to my office after the fire department leaves," Jeff Corrigan told him.

"I'm fired?" Joe guessed.

"Far from it," Jeff told Joe smiling at his disappointed face. "With this mess, you will have to put in overtime. Come by my office and I'll arrange a top security badge for you. We've got our work cut out for us," he continued, running a hand over his bald head. "Mr. Thompson wants this building rebuilt and in working order by the end of next week."

"I'll be there," Joe promised as the man turned and walked over to talk with the owner.

"I guess I won't get to keep our date tonight," Joe told Shandra ruefully.

"It's okay," she assured him. "I have a great idea!" she added brightly as a thought came to her. "Why don't you come over to my place when you do get off? You can relax in the Jacuzzi, and I'll make you some dinner, and then you can see Jim like you had arranged?"

"It could be very late," Joe tried to worm out of the invitation.

"I'm not working tomorrow," Shandra told him with a grin. "You can crash in the spare bedroom," she added.

"You've talked me into it," Joe gave in graciously.

"I'll let Jim know you will be late," she promised. "See you later," she added, reaching up and kissing Joe before leaving.

"Just the person I was looking for," Joe heard a voice behind him. He turned around and saw one of the gate guards. "Bring your tools and come on," the man ordered Joe. "We've got trouble with the gate."

As Joe went back to work, Frank was busy talking with the fire inspector. "How did the fire start?" the inspector asked Frank.

"Anthony and I were reviewing programs," Frank answered. "There was one program that kept going to a blank screen. I tried to download the program so I could get into the file, but when I hit enter, a whirring noise came from mine and Anthony's computers."

"Yeah," Anthony interrupted. "I was going to check out the noise, but Frank grabbed my arm and pulled me away from my computer. Less than a minute after that, they both exploded."

"Exploded?" asked the inspector in disbelief, his dark eyebrows rising to disappear under his black bangs.

"He's telling the truth," Frank affirmed, puzzled. "Reading a file can't make a computer explode though," he continued, lost in thought, his forehead wrinkled as he tried to work through the problem. "There must have been something connected to the computer which caused the explosion."

Anthony looked at Frank. "You're right," he agreed. "And something you, or I, or both of us did, triggered it."

"You're saying the fire was arson?" the inspector asked, interested in their verbal exchange.

"Most definitely," Anthony told him.

"Can we go in now?" Frank asked, wanting to go and take a look at the remains of the computers if, indeed, there were any.

"No," was the answer. "It isn't safe. I will check for explosives in your office," the inspector continued. "What I would like to know is why someone would want to wreck your computers."

"Maybe it wasn't just our computers," Frank said. "Maybe all the computers at Thompson Security are rigged to explode if they attempt to obtain the file."

"Interesting," the inspector said. "I'll need one of you to help test this theory."

"Gladly!" Anthony declared. "There's a computer in the main office. It's on the first floor," he added, pointing toward a section of building which had been left unaffected by the fire. "Frank, why don't you head on home?" Anthony suggested before leaving with the inspector.

Not seeing any point in remaining, Frank drove home. There, he found his dad in the study.

"You're home early," Mr. Hardy said, watching Frank come in and take a seat. Frank brought his dad up to date. "That's bad about the fire, but it did happen at a good time," Mr. Hardy said when Frank had finished. "I need you over at Hanover Industries. Of course, you will have to lose your disguise."

"What's up?" Frank asked, sitting up straight and paying close attention.

"The Department of Defense has just acquired a contract with Hanover Industries for a satellite built almost to the same specifications as the one Thompson Security is using," Mr. Hardy informed Frank. "I'm going to Washington and talk with the Defense's contractual manager. I would like for you to go over Hanover's books and see if you can find anything out of the ordinary."

"They gave them another contract?" Frank asked.

"Of course," Mr. Hardy said. "There have been many previous contracts but only recently has there been a problem with information concerning the contracts. And this is the first contract for a satellite. All previous contracts have dealt with aircraft."

"What am I going to be looking for?" Frank asked.

"I have a feeling someone at Hanover is re-wording the contracts," Mr. Hardy replied.

"Huh?" Frank asked in confusion.

"Hanover is in the red because they have been making products to exact specifications. Since there work is all classified, if even one specification is not met, the entire project is a wash if it can't be rectified quickly," Mr. Hardy explained. "If they can not provide the required item at the specified time, the contract falls through and there is no legal recourse to obtain the monies they have lost."

"And someone is making sure the specifications aren't met," Frank said. "You want me to find out how."

"Right," Mr. Hardy agreed. "Be careful," he warned. "You'll only be allowed in as my son, so no disguise."

"I will," Frank promised. "It's Joe I'm worried about," he added. "I still don't like him joining up with the thieves and not having back-up."

"You have a point," Mr. Hardy agreed thoughtfully. "How about Biff Hooper?" he suggested a few minutes later, mentioning a good friend of the boys.

"Good idea," Frank agreed. "He could help out at Thompson with the reconstruction and keep an eye on Joe." Frank stood up and walked over to the phone. "I'll give him a call and see if he can help out. As Frank was reaching for the receiver, the phone rang.

"Hardy residence," Frank answered.

"That was quick," Joe said, surprised at how fast Frank had answered. Frank told him about getting Biff's help.

"Great!" Joe said. "See if he can get over here now. I'm kind of in a sticky situation," he added and explained about Shandra's offer to stay the night. There's no way my disguise will stay intact for that length of time," Joe ended.

Grinning, Frank promised Joe he would try to get Biff over there today. After hanging up, Frank called the Hooper residence and filled him in on the case. After Biff promised to go straight to Thompson Security, Frank hung up and went to get out of his disguise.

Less than two hours later, Frank was on his way to Hanover Industries with the security pass his father had given him in his pocket. Arriving at the gate, he was issued a parking space. Once inside the building, he identified himself and was escorted to an office.

"Mr. Givens instructed me to give you this office while you are here," the slender, green-eyed, blond secretary told Frank, mentioning the company's vice-president's name. "If there is anything I can help you with, just let me know," she added before leaving and closing the door behind her.

Aboutan hour later, there was a rap at the door and a tall man wearing a three piece navy suit with a pale red tie strode into the office. The man had black hair, which was turning gray at the temples and brown eyes. Frank thought the man looked like he could use a vacation.

"I'm Dan Givens," he introduced himself. "Have you found anything yet?" he asked Frank, getting right to the point.

"I'm not sure," Frank responded, looking him in the eyes. "I've found several contracts and they all seem to match the specifications for the products built except for one or two discrepancies. What I need at this point is to see the written contracts."

"They are in Kevin's office," Mr. Givens informed Frank as he pulled out a pen and walked over to the desk. He took a sheet of paper and wrote something on it. "Give this to Kevin and he will get you anything you need," he assured Frank. "His office is the fourth door on the left past the lounge."

"Thank you, Sir," Frank replied, taking the piece of paper. After Givens had left, Frank sent the contracts to his computer at home, then powered down and went to find Kevin.

"Come in," Kevin replied to the knock at his door.

"Mr. Ardenholdt," Frank addressed the man, having read his name on the door. "Mr. Givens sent me to see you," he added, handing over the slip of paper to the red-haired man.

Kevin Ardenholdt read the paper, then looked up at Frank with a smile which never reached his brown eyes. "How may I help you?" he asked Frank, looking him over.

"I would like to see the contracts for the past eight contracts with the Department of Defense," Frank stated.

"They are in the computer," Kevin said, leaning back and studying him with a superior attitude.

"I realize that," Frank said, wondering why Kevin seemed so interested in him. "However, I would like to see the physical contracts and compare them to the onscreen ones."

"Very well," Kevin said, standing up and ushering Frank to the door. "I'll go through my files and send them to you," he promised. "Which office are you in?" he asked.

"I'll come back," Frank said, instead of answering. "Thirty minutes?" he asked.

"Fine," Kevin replied and closed the door as Frank turned away. Crossing over to his desk, he picked up the phone and dialed a number. On the fourth ring, it was answered. "Hardy's up to his old tricks," Kevin said into the receiver. "Kill the kid."


	8. Chapter Eight

Frank had gone as far as the lounge before changing his mind and turning around. He had decided to watch Kevin. There was something about him Frank didn't trust. And Joe had said one of his kidnappers had freckles all over his arms and face. While Frank hadn't seen Kevin's arms, his face was splotched with freckles, and he was the same build as one of the bank robbers. 

Frank leaned into the doorway of one of the offices near the end of the hall and watched Kevin's door. A few minutes later, Kevin walked out of his office, carrying his briefcase and several sealed folders.

Frank came up behind Kevin as he was locking his door. "That was quick," Frank said, startling Kevin.

"Ah, yes," Kevin said, his eyes full of hate but his voice friendly. "I was just going to drop them off on my way home."

"I'll just take them off your hands now," Frank said, reaching for the folders.

"Sure," Kevin said, holding them out with his right hand. As Frank started to take them, Kevin brought his briefcase up and smashed it against Frank's head. As Frank fell, Kevin took off running down the hall.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX

"Wake up," Frank heard a gruff voice say as he was being rocked back and forth on the waves. "Are you okay?" the voice asked again, as a wave splashed over the side of his consciousness and splashed him.

"What?" Frank said, jerking into an upright position. As he got his bearings, he realized he was lying in the floor and someone had been shaking him. He looked at the man who was kneeling beside him, then down at his shirt. It was wet.

"Sorry about that," the man told Frank, helping him to his feet. "You weren't coming around so I threw a cup of water on your face." He grimaced, looking at Frank's wet shirt. "I guess I had too much water."

"That's okay," Frank assured him, smiling briefly. "Did you see Kevin Ardenholdt anywhere?" he asked.

"Sorry," the man answered, shaking his head. "Maybe he went after whoever knocked you out."

"Maybe," Frank said, not bothering to put the man right. "Thanks," he said and looked at this watch. He had been unconscious for at least five minutes. Plenty of time for Kevin to have made his get-a-way. "Would you do me a favor?" Frank asked the man.

"Sure," the man agreed.

"Find Mr. Givens and ask him to meet Frank in Kevin Ardenholdts's office," Frank instructed the man. Agreeing, the man went in search of the vice-president while Frank pulled out the lock-pick kit his dad had given him last year for Christmas, and picked the lock on Kevin's office door.

Remembering Kevin had taken the folders with him, Frank went to the desk and started checking the drawers. He had gone through every one and came up empty by the time Givens arrived. "What is the meaning of this?" he demanded.

"Ardenholdt attacked me and took off," Frank informed Givens, standing up.

"That's ridiculous!" Givens denied huffily. "Kevin came highly recommended."

"By whom?" Frank inquired.

"Douglas Hanover," was the unexpected answer.

"The owner of this company?" Frank demanded in disbelief.

"That is correct," Givens answered. "So you must be mistaken."

"There's no mistake," Frank insisted. "Just look through his office," he said, waving an arm around the room. "The desk is empty, and," he added, going over to the file cabinet and opening the file drawer where the contracts for the Department of Defense should have been, "most of the files are missing."

"Givens came over and peered into the drawer where only a few files remained. "Oh, my," he said. "What will Mr. Hanover say?" he wondered out loud.

"Don't tell him," Frank advised. When Givens looked like he was about to argue, Frank held up his hand. "Not until we have proof," he qualified.

"Very well," Givens agreed. "You will keep me posted?" he asked, making it more of an order than a request.

"Of course," Frank promised. "I'm going to go through what's left of the files in case he missed one before I leave," he added.

"Fine," said Givens. "Just lock the door when you leave."

"I don't have the key," Frank said.

"How did you get in?" Givens asked. When Frank never answered, he pulled out a key ring. "This is a master key," he said, handing the key to Frank. "Your father has obtained full security clearance for you, otherwise, I couldn't let you have it. Make sure you do not lose it or allow anyone else to get their hands on it."

"I'll take care of it, Sir," Frank promised. Givens left and Frank went to work on the files.

Meanwhile, Joe was finishing up for the day at Thompson Security. "Hey Jim!" Joe heard someone shout at him. He turned around to see who was yelling at him. A six-foot-three, blond -headed, beefy young man was headed toward him. "I haven't seen you in months," he continued, getting closer to Joe.

"It has been a long time," Joe agreed loudly. He added in a lower voice as Biff drew close and came to a stop beside him, "I'm glad you could make it."

"Frank told me about your problem," Biff said. "My folks are out of town this week so you can stay at my place in case they follow you," he added.

"Great!" Joe said "We have to go to Shandra's and I'll introduce you to Jim tonight, then we can make some excuse to leave," he ended.

"Sounds like a plan," Biff said. "They put me to work on construction as soon as I got here," Biff continued. "But I am through for the night."

"I just have to put up my tools and then we can leave," Joe told him. Roughly half an hour later, Joe pulled into Jim's drive. "Shandra's place is in the basement," Joe informed Biff. "We'll go there first."

"Jim!" shouted Shandra as Joe got out of the car. She was standing in the front doorway. "I'm so glad you came." She came down the steps to greet him. "And who have we here?" she asked, looking at Biff but talking to Joe.

"This is an old friend of mine, Biff Hooper," Joe introduced him. "Biff, this is Shandra."

"Hello, Ma'am," Biff acknowledged with a smile. "I hate to be a gate crasher, but I haven't seen Jim in a long time and we have some catching up to do."

"Oh?" she asked, turning to stare haughtingly at Joe with her blue eyes.

"Can you believe it?" Joe asked her. "It's been almost a year since I last saw him and not only is he now living in Bayport, but he got a job at Thompson Security."

"Yeah," put in Biff. "Imagine my surprise when I saw Jim hammering away."

"You don't mind too much, do you?" Joe asked, pushing her brown hair away from her eyes and smiling into them.

"I suppose I'll let you get away with it this time," she said. "But if you try and get out of a date with me again, I'll chain and flog you," she teased.

"Deal," Joe told her laughing.

"Come on in," she told them. "Jim and the rest were late getting in too, so we're all having dinner together."

"Wonderful!" Biff stated. "I'm starving."

"Be careful," Shandra warned Joe and Biff as they came inside. "Don't say anything to make them any madder than they are."

"Why are they mad?" Joe asked curiously.

"Jim mentioned something about a special package not being at the warehouse where they had left it Saturday," she replied with a small shrug. "I don't know what it was, but the way they have been carrying on, it must have been important," she added, leading the way up the steps.

Joe looked over at Biff, his eyes twinkling. "Nice to know they care," Joe whispered to Biff as Shandra preceded them into the living room.

After dinner, Shandra asked Biff to help her make coffee while the others discussed business. Going into the living room, Joe took a seat in the center of the sofa. Jim Simmons sat down on his left and Steve sat on his right. Freddie sat across from him in an easy chair.

"Well?" Joe asked. "What is this business we need to discuss?"

"In a moment," Freddie said. "Kevin's not here."

"Who's Kevin?" Joe asked.

"One of our partners," was the answer. A few minutes later, Joe found out who Kevin was.

"Kevin Adernholdt meet Joe Daniels," Steve introduced the two. Joe nodded at Kevin but said nothing. This man had red hair instead of black but it was definitely the same man Joe had been sitting next to at the bank.

"What's he doing here?" Kevin demanded, glaring at Joe.

"We have been debating on allowing him to become a partner," Jim Simmons spoke up.

"We believe he would be an asset to our enterprise," Steve put in.

"Why not?" Kevin asked sarcastically, throwing up his left arm and flopping down in an empty chair.

"Don't be so enthusiastic!" Joe said, frowning at him.

Kevin's eyes narrowed as he looked at Joe. Kevin had spent as much time looking at Joe as Joe had looking at him. Joe swallowed nervously as he waited to see if Kevin would recognize him. After a tense two minutes, Kevin leaned back his head and sighed. "I had to quit," he said.

"Hardy?" asked Freddie.

"His son, actually," Kevin replied. "He came to my office wanting to see the contracts."

"The blond kid?" Steve asked in surprise.

"If it had been that one, then I wouldn't have called and told you to kill him, now would I?" Kevin inquired condescendingly. "It was the older one, Frank." He looked over at Steve. "Did you kill him?" he asked suspiciously, as what Steve asked sunk in.

"No," Steve answered.

"Why not?" Kevin demanded, jumping to his feet.

"He wasn't there," Jim said. "He made a makeshift ladder and climbed out the skylight."

"We should have killed him when we had the chance," Kevin said. "No more screw-ups," he continued. "From now on we take no prisoners."

"Wait a minute," Joe said, standing up. "You're talking about murder?"

"It's a distinct possibility," Steve stated, looking up at Joe.

"But," Joe started only to be stopped by Kevin.

"But if you want out," Kevin said, pulling a gun from beneath his jacket and aiming it at Joe's chest. "It can be arranged."


	9. Chapter Nine

"I just want to know what I am getting into," Joe said, looking Kevin unflinchingly in the eyes. "So I can be prepared." 

"Fair enough," Greg said, walking into the room. Kevin put his gun away and sat down on the sofa where Joe had been. Greg took Joe's arm and led him to the chair vacated by Kevin and gave him a gentle push. "Sit," he said, then sat down on the chair's arm on Joe's left.

Joe looked at Greg's apparel. He was wearing a chauffeur's uniform, complete with black cap atop his blond head. His right hazel eye was staring at him as his left one stayed in the corner as though glancing behind him.

"Have you ever heard of a man named Fenton Hardy?" Greg asked Joe. Joe gave a brief nod. "Well, he has been investigating the problems at Thompson Security and Hanover Industries," Greg continued. "And he has been getting too close for comfort."

"Jim said I would make some money out of this deal," Joe said. "How? Am I supposed to take out Hardy or something?"

"No, he is just a glitch in the system," Kevin said. "We're getting five million dollars to put Hanover Industries out of business."

"What does Thompson Security have to do with Hanover Industries?" Joe asked.

"Thompson Security is one of Hanover's best customers," Steve informed Joe.

"So you got a job there to sabotage them, but are rigging it to look like Hanover is to blame," Joe surmised.

"Right," Steve agreed.

"What kind of contribution do you expect from me?" Joe asked.

"Thanks to the fire," Steve said and, when Joe raised his eyebrows at him, he added, "and yes, it was my handiwork, you now have high level security clearance."

"You have already proven you have iniative," Jim stated. "So what we expect you to do is insert a virus into the various computers."

"Why not just infect the mainframe?" Joe asked. "It would be quicker."

"And easier to locate," Steve pointed out.

"What does the virus do?" Joe asked.

"It locates accounts with balances over one hundred thousand dollars and transfers one percent to another account," Steve explained. "Of that one percent, we get a tenth."

"Wait a minute," Joe said, confused. "Thompson Security isn't a bank."

"No, but with the satellite system installed, it has access to over a million banks," Freddie pointed out.

"Okay, you said the virus takes one percent, but we only get a tenth of that. Where does the other percentage go?" Joe wanted to know.

"In a dummy account set up for Hanover," was Steve's answer.

"What?" Joe asked in confused again. "Hanover is involved in the plot to destroy his own company?"

"It's in his name, and it would take a bit of work for it to be found, but no, he's not involved," Greg said. "We are just making it look that way."

"And you are getting five million from the virus?" Joe repeated.

"Right," concurred Freddie.

"So whoever is in charge of this operation doesn't get anything out of it?" Joe observed.

"The person in charge," Kevin said, careful not to reveal who the head man was, "gets Hanover in trouble with the IRS."

"He isn't paying taxes on his extra income," Freddie said with a side-splitting guffaw.

The virus was clever, Joe thought, but it still didn't explain the problem with the security cameras or the missing shipments. "Some of the offices at Thompson have cameras," he said aloud. "How am I supposed to input the virus in those rooms?"

"That's where Kevin comes in," Greg told him, looking over at Kevin to explain.

"I invented a program to take care of that little problem," Kevin told Joe. "The cameras are all on a delay," he explained. "After you load the virus, which takes roughly three minutes, you input the program. The program puts the satellite into a loop. It effectively erases five minutes for each time you hit the enter key, allowing the cameras to view only what happened before the loop was begun and after the loop was programed to end."

"So it only works for five minutes, tops?" Joe asked.

"Right," Kevin agreed. "However, the loop can actually be inserted anywhere and, as I said, it can last as long as you want it too by hitting the enter key."

'That's how they did it at the bank,' Joe thought. "They started the program before going in. They must have downloaded the virus into the bank's system while they were there.'

"Genius!" Joe declared in awe. "You could do anything with a program like that. Why just use it for Thompson Security?"

"Thompson Security and any place they are operating," Freddie amended.

"Because the program requires a certain chip in order to function," Kevin informed Joe. "The only chip in existence, made by Jim and myself, is located in the satellite Hanover made for Thompson Security."

"So we could get our hands on basically any info we needed," Joe said, thinking of some of the contracts Thompson Security held, including the Department of Defense.

"We could," Kevin agreed, "but it's too risky. It's only a matter of time before the program is uncovered and a counter-program is initiated."

"When that happens, the original program can be traced to the computer where it originated," Jim finished.

"So we discredit Hanover and destroy his company and somebody's paying us to do it," Joe summarized. "What if the boss decides to use us as patsies?"

"Not a chance," Greg said. "Not only would our employer never reneg on us, but if we cut out and end the program before we're caught, there's no evidence."

"But we still have that Hardy brat to worry about," Kevin reminded him. "He saw all of us."

"No problem," Freddie said. "I'll take care of him."

"Coffee's ready," Shandra's voice floated through the door seconds before she did, carrying a coffee pot. Biff followed her carrying a tray filled with saucers, cups, cream and sugar.

After they had finished their coffee, Biff and Joe said their goodbyes and made their way back to Biff's house. Once there, Biff called Frank and invited him over.

After he arrived at the Hoopers, Joe brought Frank up to date. "And here is the file I copied," Joe ended, handing it to Frank.

"Great!" Frank enthused. "Maybe now we can find out what the Lolp file contains." He then related the events of his day.

"Did Kevin leave any of the files behind?" Joe asked when Frank had finished.

"He forgot one," Frank said with a grin. "I checked the specs on the contract to the one on the computer but I didn't find any discrepancies."

"Then why are you so happy?" Biff demanded.

"Because I checked the contract against the computer print-out which was made at the onset of the project and there was one discrepancy," Frank explained.

"The one that cost Hanover the contract," Joe surmised.

"Right," Frank affirmed. "Each project requires a print-out prior to the work begun and another print-out on completion. The completed print-outs do match the pre-work print-out which is what has been being checked."

"But you back-tracked and found the problem," Biff guessed. "Why didn't the company think to do that?" he asked.

"Because after the contract has been input into the computer, it's not supposed to be changed," Frank told him.

"And if the final print-out matches the contract which has been input into the computer, there is no need to recheck the written contract," Joe finished.

"When are they going to let you have the program?" Frank asked Joe.

"Probably tomorrow," Joe answered. "That's when I get the virus."

"You can't use the virus," Biff stated.

"No," Joe agreed. "But if I can get my hands on the virus and the program, then we will have the evidence we need."

"But we still don't know who is behind the campaign against Hanover," Frank pointed out with a frown.

"What about Shandra?" Biff asked. "She made sure I was occupied while you guys were talking," he said to Joe.

Joe started to argue that she was innocent but changed his mind. "I don't think she's in charge," he said with a small shake of his head. "But I don't see how she can't know about what's going on. She would have to be really stupid and she isn't."

"What are you going to do?" Biff asked.

"I think it's time Jim and Shandra went on a date," Frank said, looking at Joe. "Maybe you can find out what she does know." Joe nodded his agreement. "Be careful though," Frank warned. "If anyone finds out who you really are, you're as good as dead."

"I will," Joe promised, stifling a yawn. "Sorry," he said with a lopsided grin.

"I'm going back to Hanover tomorrow," Frank continued. "First, though, I want to see if I can find out what is on the disk you have," he said to Joe. "Call me if you run into any trouble. Otherwise, I'll see you here at midnight after your date."

The next morning, Frank was up early and on his way to Phil Cohen's house. Phil was a computer genius and Frank had decided to ask him to unlock the secrets of the Lolp file while he went to Hanover Industries and picked up where he had left off the day before.

Twenty-five minutes after leaving the disk with Phil, Frank pulled through the gate at Hanover. He was surprised he hadn't been stopped by the guard as he had been on the previous day. After parking the van, he went to the gate to speak with the guard.

Not seeing anyone in the booth, he took hold of the knob and pulled. Frank's eyes went wide in surprise as he saw the guard lying on the floor, unconscious!


	10. Chapter Ten

Arriving at work, Joe was greeted by Freddie. "I'll catch you later," Biff told Joe and headed to the main building after Freddie had not so subtly implied he needed to speak with Joe alone. 

After Biff had departed, Freddie pulled out a disk and handed it to Joe. "This is the virus," Freddie informed him. "Just slip it into any computer you come in contact with and load it. The command is Lolp.exe. You won't see anything but the file name, Lolp, when it has finished loading."

"What does Lolp stand for?" Joe asked him, feeling bad because thanks to his copy, Phil's computer would also be infected.

"Lollipop," Freddie told him laughing. "As in sucker."

"I get it," Joe said. "Any one who reads the file is a sucker because he will be destroying his own computer."

"No," Freddie said. "It doesn't destroy the computer. It starts the process of stealing percentages like we told you last night. All you have to do is load the virus and try to read the file. But if you don't have time to read it, don't worry, whoever does try to read it will activate it anyway."

"What about the program for the satellite?" Joe asked. "I need it for the offices which have cameras."

"The program is already in the system," Freddie said. "It takes hours to install it but the command to activate it is Wait at least sixty seconds after you enter the command before you close the application or it won't take effect," Freddie informed Joe. He pulled out a business card for Thompson Security. "In case you forget the command," he said, handing the card to Joe. "It's on the back. Memorize it and destroy the card," he ordered.

"Don't worry," Joe told him. "Doing time isn't in my plans." Joe left Freddie and found Biff busy working by Frank's old office.

"Call Frank and tell him the virus is on the disk I gave him. He'll probably have to get Phil to decode it." Biff agreed and Joe returned to work.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Frank checked the guard's vital signs and reached for the phone. He first called for an ambulance and the police and then contacted Givens.

After the ambulance had left taking the guard to the hospital for treatment of a concussion, Frank talked to the officer who was in charge of the investigation. Lieutenant Damien had heard of the Hardy Boys and answered all of Frank's questions, however, the information was basically nil.

"I'm sorry, Frank," Lt. Damien told him, shaking his head. "We've only come up with two sets of prints, yours on the phone and the guards." He paused for a breath, then fixed his brown eyes on Frank's face. "Maybe you can tell me what's going on?"

Frank told him only that the attack here could be connected to the hold-up at the bank and the fire at Thompson Security.

"How are they connected?" Damien asked.

"I'm not sure," answered Frank after a moment's thought. "Members of the bank hold-up worked here and at Thompson," he said. "But I don't know why the guard would have been attacked."

"Whose van is that?" an officer shouted from a few feet away, pointing at the Hardy's van.

"Mine," Frank replied.

"Your phone is ringing off the hook," the officer informed him.

"Thanks," Frank said and ran for the van. He grabbed the phone, "Hello."

"Frank," Biff's voice came through. "Joe wanted me to call you about the disk," he said and repeated Joe's message.

"Thanks Biff," Frank said. He told Biff about the attack on the guard. "See if Joe can find anything out," he ordered before saying goodbye.

Frank then called Phil and warned him about the disk before returning to Lt. Damien. "What are you doing at Hanover Industries?" Damien asked Frank.

"I'm doing some research for my dad," Frank replied honestly. "But I can't tell you anymore."

"You said members of the bank hold-up worked here and at Thompson Security," Damien said with a frown. "Why haven't you reported that information to the police?"

"The hold-up is tied to something more," Frank explained. "We think the robbery was really just a cover up for something else. And besides, Dad has kept Chief Collig informed."

"All right," Damien said. "Perhaps you could have your father give me a call?" he asked.

"I'll tell him," Frank promised, then went inside the building. He returned to Ardenholdt's office and began going through his desk. He had finished the files yesterday after Ardenholdt's attack.

Finding nothing, Frank locked the office and went down the hall to the next office. He rapped lightly on the door and entered when bade to do so. "Hi, my name is Frank Hardy," he introduced himself to the twenty something blond in a suit and tie. "I've been authorized to review your files."

The man smiled at Frank. "Mr. Hanover said to expect you," he said. "I don't want to be in your way, so I will just go and get some coffee in the lounge. Perhaps if you are still here when I get back, we could set up another desk in here until you have finished."

"Thank you," Frank told the man as he left the office, closing Frank in behind him. Frank began by checking the file cabinets. He pulled out the files he needed and sat down at the desk. Pulling up a file on the computer, he checked it against the written one. He repeated the process until he had finished, then returned all but two files to their proper place. These two files he carried with him as he left the office, locking it behind him, and made his way down the hall and up a flight of stairs. He walked down the hall to the last door and rapped sharply.

He was told to come inside and he opened the door and entered. He walked over to the large desk at the corner of the room. "What can I do for you?" asked the secretary, a shapely woman in her early thirties with long, wavy blond hair and hazel eyes.

"I would like to see Mr. Hanover," Frank informed her. "My name is Frank Hardy."

She flashed Frank a large, friendly smile. "You're Fenton's son," she said in recognition. "Dan told us about Mr. Ardenholdt's attack on you."

"He did?" asked Frank in surprise.

"Yes," the secretary did. "He felt we should know what was going on whether or not you had the proof yet. I hope you are feeling all right?" she asked sincerely.

"I'm fine, thank you," Frank answered her, taking an instant liking to the woman.

She stood up and started walking toward a door with the name Douglas Hanover on it. "Come on in," she invited him, taking the knob and turning it without knocking.

Frank was taken aback by the secretary's brassiness, but followed her into Hanover's office. Mr. Hanover, a large, muscular man with curly brown hair and green eyes, looked up from his desk as they entered. He stood as his secretary came around to the side of his chair. "Darling, this is Fenton's son, Frank," she introduced him. "Frank, my husband, Doug."

"Hello, Sir," Frank said, understanding now why the secretary's behaviour was atypical.

"Have you found out anything?" Doug asked Frank, motioning him to a chair in front of his desk.

Frank came forward and put the files on the desk as Doug sat down. Frank took a seat and explained about the discrepancies he had found in the two files. He then told Doug about the discrepancies between the original written contracts and the contracts on the computer files at Thompson Security.

"What about the Department of Defense contract?" Mrs. Hanover inquired. "Do you have any idea who stole it?"

"We have several suspects for the sabotage, Mrs. Hanover," Frank answered. "But we can't be sure they are responsible for the missing aircraft specs," he admitted.

"Call me Marcia, please," she said Frank.

"Are you sure the discrepancies at Thompson are related to the ones here?" Dough inquired, with the lift of his eyebrow.

"Of that, we are positive," Frank assured him. "My brother was kidnapped at the bank hold-up on Saturday. His abductors are men who have been spotted here and at Thompson Security." He paused before adding, "Kevin Ardenholdt was one of those men."

Doug shook his head, finding it hard to believe. "I've known Kevin for years," he told Frank. "It was hard enough to believe he attacked you yesterday, but kidnapping?"

"Believe it," Frank said. "I'm betting there is at least one more member of this gang employed here," he continued. "Could I get a list of your personnel?"

"All the ones connected to the fixed contracts, or the stolen specs, or both?" Marcia inquired.

"All your personnel," Frank stated. "A good hacker would have no problem obtaining the computer downloads. Stealing the contract, altering it, and replacing it later isn't really a problem either," he pointed out.

"Go to the ground floor and ask to speak with Jim," Doug told him. "Marcia will call him and let him know you're coming."

"Thanks," Frank said, standing up. "I'll let you know what I find out," he promised, leaving the office and closing the door behind him.

Frank went to the ground floor and was directed to an office at the end of the hall. He strolled down the hall, glancing at the names on the doors, coming to a stop in front of one which was startlingly familiar.

The sign on the door read Jim Simmons, Personnel Director. Frank paused for a moment, gathering his wits about him. He had to pretend he didn't know the man. He frowned, wishing his disguise at Thompson Security, the one he had worn to Jim's house, had been more concealing. Taking a deep breath, he rapped lightly on the door.

"Enter," said a voice from within.

Frank turned the knob and walked inside. All his senses alert, he took in Jim Simmons. It was indeed the same man. "I would like a list of all of Hanover's employees," Frank said, getting right to the point.

Jim looked up at Frank. He thought he saw recognition flare in the man's green eyes but it was gone in an instant and Frank wasn't sure if he had imagined it. "Of course," Jim replied cordially. "It will take some time to print up," he said. "If you would care to come back later, I should have it ready in about an hour."

Frank knew he was trying to get rid of him. "That's okay," he said. "I'll wait."

"As you wish," Jim said and keyed in a command on his keyboard. He stood up. "I'm going for some coffee," he said, and left Frank alone.

Frank debated whether to follow him or search the office, but less than a moment later, the choice was taken away from him. The door opened and Ardenholdt came into the room. He froze briefly when he saw Frank but quickly recovered and pulled a handgun from a holster beneath his arm.

"Maybe coming back today wasn't such a stupid idea after all," Ardenholdt said. He motioned with the gun for Frank to turn around, then he searched Frank to see if he had a weapon on him.

"Okay, Hardy, you're coming with me," he told Frank. "You put up a fight or even try to alert anyone and a lot of people are going to die today."

"Understood," Frank said as Ardenholdt put the barrel into the small of his back and ushered him out of the room.


	11. Chapter Eleven

"Shandra, this is Jim," Joe said into the receiver. He had just finished work and with all he had done today, this was his first chance to call her. 

"Hi, Jim," Shandra answered. "How was your visit with Biff?"

"It was good," Joe told her. "But I miss you."

"Oh?" she asked coquettishly.

"How about I drive by and pick you up after I shower and change?" he asked. "We can have dinner and catch a movie."

"What about Biff?" she asked.

"He can get his own dinner," Joe replied, grinning into the receiver.

"Seven o'clock?" she asked.

"I'll be there," Joe promised, ringing off.

"Be where?" asked Steve, coming up behind Joe.

Joe spun around. "You startled me," he said. "I thought you and the other employees weren't allowed back until we had finished fixing the place?"

"I came to pick you up," Steve said. "Our boss wanted to meet you. Be where?" he persisted.

"I'm picking Shandra up at seven," Joe answered. "I was just going to run home and shower and change."

"You can keep your date with Shandra," Steve promised, smiling at Joe. "But you will have to skip the rest until after. Let's go," he said, taking Joe's arm and leading him toward a silver Taurus.

Joe got in the passenger side and buckled up. Steve took the wheel and made a left out of the lot. "What's your job at Thompson?" Joe asked.

"Did you load the virus?" Steve asked, not answering Joe's question.

"I got to the computers in the west wing of the third floor," Joe lied. "But I didn't have time to activate them. Mack and Tom kept coming around," he explained, naming two more of the company's handymen.

"That's a good start," Steve replied with a curious expression. "The fire was contained on the second floor," he said. "Why were you on the third floor?"

Joe shrugged. "The ceiling of the second level is the floor of the third level," he answered. "The fire burned through to the point where new beams, wood, and carpet had to be put in on the third floor."

"Excellent!" Steve enthused, smiling the first satisfied smile Joe had seen on his face. He glanced over at Joe. "My job at Thompson is that of programmer," he finally answered Joe's earlier question. "I program the chips which go into the satellite."

"All of them?" Joe asked, wanting more detail.

"My specialty is the operation of the time delay feature," Steve informed Joe.

"So it was easy for you to rig the time loop and let everyone think it's a false feed or virus causing the skip," Joe stated.

"Yeah," Steve admitted.

"I heard Cort was shot," Joe said. "Was that one of us?"

Steve glanced over at Joe. "We had to get him away from his computer long enough to fix it."

"With the virus?" Joe asked, confused.

Steve shook his head, pulling off the highway and onto a paved drive. "Remember, we told you someone would eventually figure out our program and virus and write a counter program?" Joe nodded.

"Well, Cort is a genius and he was getting too close. When the bullet only got his leg, I rigged the computers in his office to blow up." Steve frowned. "Too bad he never died in the explosion."

"What about Harrison?' Joe asked. "Did you arrange for him to die?"

"Why so concerned?" Steve inquired with the lift of an eyebrow.

"Because I was supposed to have turned the power off," Joe pointed out. "He just beat me to it."

"Rest easy, Jim," Steve told him. "Harrison's death was just a freak accident. He was a world class pain, but he wasn't a threat."

Steve came to a stop in front of a two story house. From the car, Joe could see a tennis court in the background. He climbed out of the car and looked around. There were three cars parked off to the side. Joe and Steve climbed the steps to the porch and Steve knocked on the door.

The door opened and a man in his early fifties stood there. He had silver gray hair and sharp green eyes. He was intimidating at six foot four and roughly fifty pounds heavier than Joe's own one sixty. The man glanced at Steve then rested his eyes on Joe, taking in his dirty clothing and limp hair. "Come in," he said finally, moving to the side and allowing them to come inside.

Joe followed their host through the foyer into the living room. Steve brought up the rear but upon reaching the living room, he excused himself and went through to the dining room and on into the kitchen. "Sit down," the man who had greeted them told Joe, pointing to a chair.

Joe sat down and looked up as the man loomed over him. "I'm Jim Daniels," Joe introduced himself in a steady voice.

"I know who you are. Kevin and Steve have told me all about you," the man said. "At least, all they know," he amended, looking at Joe thoughtfully.

"I handpicked all the men working for me," he continued. "Except you. Why are you so special, I wonder?" he added softly, almost to himself. Joe never said a word. He met the man's gaze with a calmness he never felt.

"I suppose you are wondering who I am?" he asked, finally moving away and sitting down.

"The thought had crossed my mind," Joe admitted.

"My name is Peter Carruthers," he introduced himself.

"Carruthers?" Joe asked, his eyes taking on a thoughtful expression. "Isn't Andrew Carruthers the president of the bank that was robbed last Saturday?"

"It is," Peter admitted.

"Are you any relation?" Joe asked him.

"Andrew is my brother," Peter admitted.

"I guess you are pretty mad at the men who robbed the place then?" Joe asked, although he knew better.

Peter leaned back in his chair and smiled at Joe. "On the contrary," he replied. "I orchestrated the robbery."

"Why?" Joe asked, pretending to be shocked.

"Oh, I have nothing against my brother," Peter assured Joe, assuming that was what he thought. "No, in order to get the money into Hanover's account without it being traced, we had to access it through his bank."

"So the robbery was just a cover up," Joe said. "I realize it is none of my business, but why are you framing Hanover?"

Peter's smile vanished as he looked at Joe. "You're right," he agreed. "It is none of your business. You and your associates are being paid enough not to ask questions."

Joe bowed his head an inch in acknowledgement of the reprimand. Peter got to his feet. "Steve!" he shouted.

"Yes, Sir?" Steve asked, coming into the room.

"Jim will be staying with me for the next few days," Peter told him.

Joe jumped to his feet. "Why?" he demanded.

"This is a very important job," Peter explained calmly. "I don't know anything about you and until I do, you will remain under constant supervision."

"I'm a prisoner?" Joe demanded hotly.

"A guest," Peter corrected. He looked over at Steve. "You will keep watch on him at work." Steve nodded.

"I've got a date tonight," Joe informed Peter.

"With Jim's cousin, Shandra," Steve put in.

"You may call Shandra and invite her here," Peter told Joe. "But until I trust you or until this job is done, you will stay here. If you try to leave, you will be eliminated," he was warned.

Joe sighed in resignation. "Can I call Shandra now?" he asked.

"Of course," Peter agreed. "Steve, please find Jeffery. Tell him we have a guest he needs to attend to."

"Yes, Sir," Steve said and left.

"Jeffery?" Joe asked.

"My valet," Peter informed Joe. "He will take you to your room and give you something to change into." Joe bit his bottom lip to keep from saying anything and nodded. "Feel free to use the phone," Peter told him, pointing to one beside the chair Joe had just vacated.

Joe sat back down and picked up the receiver. As he began dialing, Peter left the room. Joe thought about calling the van and letting Frank know where he was but quickly dismissed the idea. No doubt his calls would be monitored. He would just have to wait until he saw Biff tomorrow to let everyone know he was alright. In the meantime, Joe had every intention of finding out all he could about Peter Carruthers.

"Shandra," Joe said when she answered the phone. "I'm sorry, but I won't be able to take you out tonight after all."

"What is it this time?" she demanded, obviously angry.

"It's your cousin's friend, Peter Carruthers," Joe replied honestly. "He insists I be his guest for a few days. He did, however, suggest you come over here for dinner," he added.

"Well, I guess that's okay," she replied, a little hesitantly. "I've met Peter," she continued. "He's a pretty nice guy."

"Glad to hear it," Joe said. "He kind of gave me the heebie jeebies."

Shandra laughed. "What time do you want me there?" she asked.

"I forgot to ask," Joe replied with a small laugh of his own. "But if you come on over, we could get to know each other a little better before dinner."

"I'll be there in thirty minutes," she promised. "I'll get Jim to bring me. I'm sure Peter won't mind if he comes too."

"I'm sure you're right," Joe agreed and hung up the phone. He stood up and stretched. No matter whose house he was in, he needed a shower. He paused with his hands half-way back down, remembering his disguise. With no way to repair it, a shower was out of the question. He would have to make Biff leave work tomorrow and get the items he needed.

Joe's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat. Startled, Joe dropped his hands and spun around. Standing four feet away from him was a mountain of a man. He stood a full six foot five and weighed at least three hundred pounds. His muscles rippled beneath his tee shirt as he stood, with his arms crossed, staring at Joe curiously with sharp blue eyes.

'Valet, my eye,' Joe thought, taking in the man's appearance from his running shoes to the long black hair worn in a ponytail. "Jeffery?" Joe inquired, hoping his voice wouldn't crack. He really didn't want this man as a shadow.

"That's right," Jeffery responded. "But you can call me Jeff," he said, smiling at Joe. "Come on, I'll take you to your room so you can change before your guest arrives," he added, turning and walking out of the room.

Joe followed him upstairs to a spacious bedroom with a king size waterbed. "Sweet," Joe said appreciatively.

"The bathroom is through that door," Jeff told Joe, pointing to the door on his left. "My room is on the other side." He walked over to another door and opened it. "This is your closet. There are all sizes in here so pick out what you need for the evening and tomorrow I will run you over to your place and you can pick up some of your stuff," Jeff informed him.

"Great," Joe said, smiling at him. "Oh, I almost forgot," he said. "Shandra is having Jim bring her over tonight."

"That's good," Jeff replied with a grin. "Peter was going to have Steve go get him but now he won't have too."

"Why not just call him?" Joe inquired.

"Peter doesn't want any evidence of a connection between himself and his ,er, employees," Jeff told Joe. "And a call would leave a trail."

"But he let me call Shandra," Joe said in confusion.

"Her line is separate from Jim's," Jeff told him.

Joe nodded his understanding, relieved to know Shandra wasn't involved, but a nagging voice in Joe's head demanded to know if she knew what was going on anyway.

Jeff left the room and Joe changed and got ready for dinner. Joe came out of his room twenty minutes later and headed for the stairs. Jeff came out of his room and caught up with Joe at the first step. Together, they went downstairs and into the living room where Peter, Steve, and Freddie were waiting.

Joe looked surprised to see Freddie. "Hey, Man," Joe greeted him. "I didn't know you were going to be here too."

"Greg and Kevin will be joining us as well," Peter said. "Kevin said he had a treat for us."

Shandra and Jim arrived a few minutes later and Joe and Shandra left the group and went upstairs to Joe's room to talk in private. Joe had wanted to go for a walk outside, but Peter had suggested the bedroom because dinner would be ready shortly and he had no wish to force Jeffery to hunt them down.

Joe had a strong suspicion the room was bugged so he couldn't talk to Shandra about the thefts or the people involved. "I thought we would never get a chance to be alone," Shandra told Joe, wrapping her arms around his neck and running a hand through his hair as soon as he had closed the door.

"Easy, girl," Joe said, putting his hands on her hips and gently easing her back a little.

"What's wrong?" she asked, looking at him curiously.

"I feel strange in this place," Joe admitted.

"You could have come to mine," Shandra reminded him.

"Not for a while," Joe said.

"I'm sorry Joe," she said suddenly, releasing him and going over to the bed and sitting down.

"For what?" he asked, taking a seat beside her.

"For getting you involved in this mess," she said miserably. "Don't look so surprised," she told him, catching the look he gave her. "I'm not stupid. I don't know exactly what is going on but I do know it's not legal. And I'd bet everything I own, it involves the stolen shipments at work."

Joe reached over and pushed a lock of brown hair from her face. "Hey, don't worry about it," he told her, trying to get her not to talk about it. "Why don't we go back downstairs and see if dinner is ready, hmm?" he asked. "I don't know about you, but I am starving."

"No," she argued. "You've got to get out while you can," she insisted. "Joe, they were talking about killing someone."

"I know," Joe replied nervously before looking into her eyes. "Shandra, I like you, a lot," he began. "But this is the chance of a lifetime. I don't want out," he said for the gang's benefit.

"You're willing to give up everything for money?" she asked in disbelief.

"Shandra, you don't understand," he told her. "I've got nothing to give up. I'm an orphan. I've got no family and very few friends. I don't even have a real home. This is a chance to be somebody. A million dollars," he told her. "I can quit breaking my back just to have a roof over my head and food on the table. I can't pass this up."

Shandra leaned over and grabbed Joe's face in her hands and kissed him. Pulling back, she smiled, looking into his eyes. "I'm so happy to hear you say that," she told him.

Joe looked confused but she never explained. She stood up and went through the connecting bathroom to Jeff's room. When she returned, she was followed by Peter, Steve, Jeff, Greg, Freddie, and Kevin.

"Congratulations, Jim," Peter said with a smile as he took Joe's hand and pulled him to his feet. "You passed."

Jim came over and wrapped an arm around Joe's shoulders. "We had to be sure we could trust you," he explained. "So we had Shandra pretend not to be involved."

"Oh," Joe said, truly stunned. He had actually started to believe she had been innocent.

"Now that you are really a member of this team, you can help us decide what to do," Kevin said.

"About what?" Joe asked.

"I told you Kevin said he had us a treat," Peter reminded Joe. "It's Frank Hardy."


	12. Chapter Twelve

Everyone filed downstairs and into the living room where Frank lay on the floor, his hands and feet bound together with a rope, which encircled his neck. If he tried to loosen his bonds, he would strangle himself. 

"I guess this means we are having turkey for dinner?" Joe asked, glancing at Peter.

Frank glared at his brother but couldn't retort because of the gag in his mouth. He felt a little better about his own predicament now that Joe was there, but he saw worry in Joe's eyes and that made him wary.

"So, how do you want to get rid of him?" Kevin asked.

"Let me break him," Freddie begged, a smile on his face. "Too bad it isn't Blondie," he added with a growl, showing the personal dislike he had taken to Joe when Joe had insulted him after the robbery.

"Shouldn't we let his dad know we have him?" Joe asked.

"What's the point?" Steve asked with the lift of an eyebrow. "His old man will just keep on investigating."

"Maybe not," Peter disagreed. "Joe escaped which left Hardy no reason to obey our commands." Peter glanced over at Joe as he said this. The only person who noticed though, was Frank. He immediately felt a twinge of fear. Not for himself, but for Joe.

"Jeff, you and Jim carry him to the basement and lock him up, then we'll have dinner," Peter ordered.

Joe grabbed Frank's shoulders and lifted as Jeff took his legs. Looking down into Frank's eyes, he could tell there was something Frank was bursting to tell him, but there was no way he could remove the gag with Jeff around.

They carried Frank down the stairs into the basement. When Jeff turned to go back upstairs. Joe pulled his pocketknife out and dropped it into Frank's hands before following. Joe had been so fast, Jeff hadn't even noticed the delay.

To Joe's surprise, dinner was spent discussing sports and movies. He felt guilty as he thought about Frank not getting anything to eat, but dared not say anything. After dinner, they adjourned to the living room.

"How are things progressing?" Peter asked Kevin, who seemed to be second in command.

"By the day after tomorrow, Hanover will have reached the mark," Kevin replied.

"And we can all retire rich," Steve said, leaning back on the sofa and putting his arms along the top.

"What about the aircraft?" Joe asked, looking at Peter. Peter's eyes narrowed introspectively as he gazed at Joe.

"What are you talking about?" Greg demanded, looking genuinely confused while all around him, he heard questions of surprise. But the one person who spoke with a twinge, stuck in his mind.

"Jim," Shandra laughed nervously. "You've been watching too many spy stories." Joe looked at her thoughtfully.

"How did you know about the aircraft?" Kevin asked, looking at Joe suspiciously.

Joe shrugged his shoulders. "I've heard things," he said.

"What?" Steve demanded, turning his attention to Kevin. "What's he talking about?"

"It doesn't concern you," Kevin snapped at Steve. "You've done your part, you'll get your money and clear out."

"Out of the country?" Joe asked.

Freddie stood up, looking suspiciously at Kevin now. "What's he talking about?" he demanded.

"Treason is one way of putting it," Joe replied in a droll voice.

"Treason!" Freddie shouted, joined by Greg and Steve who leapt to their feet to join Freddie.

"Spill it," Steve ordered, nostrils flaring, his hazel eyes mere slits.

Kevin slowly rose to his feet. In the process, he reached under his jacket and pulled out his gun. "How's this for an explanation?"

"Easy, Kevin," Peter said softly, stepping between the two and placing a hand on Kevin's wrist and pushing the hand holding the gun down. "Gentlemen," he said, looking at the threesome. "There is no need for concern. This is an entirely separate matter."

"So how come Jim knows so much about it?" Greg demanded.

"That is a very good question," Peter complimented him. He turned back to Joe. "Would you care to explain?"

"I heard some people talking in the lounge when I met Shandra," Joe answered. "They were discussing missing shipments."

"What do they have to do with aircraft?" Freddie asked.

"I did some checking," Joe lied, then, deciding to take a chance, he continued. "The missing shipments could all be used to construct aircraft."

"How would you know?" Jim asked. He was usually quite, letting his cousin speak for him but now he was interested in finding out how much Joe did know.

"I'm a pilot," Joe said. "I've had my license for almost a year." He paused to let that sink in. "Any pilot could identify some of the missing parts."

"How does that lead to treason?" Steve asked, staring at Joe thoughtfully.

"Before I inserted the virus, I checked to see what was missing. Then I hacked into Hanover and ran a search through their files. The DOD has commissioned Hanover to build them three experimental aircraft," Joe explained.

"You know what we are doing and it doesn't bother you?" Shandra asked him.

Joe gave a lazy smile. "What did you think I was going to do with the disk I took from that guy's office when I first started?" he asked. "I know where the money is."

Shandra gave Joe a brilliant smile and snuggled up next to him. "I knew you were ambitious the moment I saw you," she complimented him.

Joe smiled down at her, then looked up at Peter who seemed to be watching him with a puzzled expression. "I thought I had you figured out," he said, almost to himself. "Now, I'm not so sure."

"Look, you may be all right with this, but I'm not," Greg asserted. "If we're suspected of treason, they'll never stop looking for us."

"You're not involved," Kevin told him. "This doesn't affect you or your take. Just stick to the plan and leave this part alone," he added, so quietly, it left no doubt in anyone's mind there was an ultimatum in his words.

Freddie cleared his throat. "Well, if we have to be twice as careful now, I'm going down to check on our hostage."

"I'll go with you," Joe said, rising. If Frank hadn't finished getting away, he would probably need some help.

"No," Jim said and latched onto Joe's arm. "Freddie can handle the brat. We need to talk." He pulled Joe toward the staircase as Freddie headed out of the living room and toward the basement.

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After Jeff and Joe had left the basement, Frank struggled with the pocket knife. Moving his left hand to pull the blade out caused the rope to constrict around his neck and he finally ended up holding his breath until the knife was open.

Positioning the blade was no easy feat either. He cut his thumb as he finally managed to get it aimed at the ropes. Then he began sawing at them with small, slow strokes. The aroma of spicy chili and garlic bread assaulted his senses as the crowd upstairs ate and his stomach growled for attention but he kept up his pace.

After almost two hours, Frank was free of his bonds. He rubbed his ankles before standing up to make sure they would support him. Creeping up the basement steps, he pushed the door open just a bit. He could hear Joe convincing the gang he had hacked his way into Hanover's computer system. He was surprised to find some of them knew nothing about the stolen DOD contract. He silently congratulated his little brother for figuring it out and playing the members against each other.

Frank froze when he heard Freddie say he was going to check on him, but breathed a sigh of relief when Joe volunteered to accompany him. Before he could relax further however, Simmons stopped him. Frank heard footsteps climbing stairs, then more, heading his way. Frantic, Frank looked back down the stairs at the cut ropes. There was no chance he could fake being tied up. He would just have to fight his way out.

Closing the basement door, he ran down the steps and flattened himself against the outside stairwell. Freddie opened the basement door and came down two steps. Switching on the light and closing the door behind him, he slowly made his way down the stairs, looking at his feet and mumbling something Frank couldn't understand.

Frank held his breath, expecting Freddie at any second to look to where the ropes lay and yell for the others. But Freddie reached the bottom of the stairs before looking away from his feet. As he opened his mouth, Frank leapt from his hiding place and shoved Freddie hard into the wall.

"Ooof," Freddie grunted, throwing his hands up in time to break his impact. He swung around and saw Frank coming at him, both fists raised.

Freddie bent over and rushed Frank, bringing him to the floor with a tackle. "Cool it Hardy," Freddie hissed, his eyes troubled. "I'm here to help."

Frank stopped struggling and looked up at Freddie suspiciously. "Why?" he asked.

"I may be many things," Freddie told Frank. "But I am no traitor. My old man died protecting this country and I am not about to let those scum do something that might help to destroy it."

"It's only specifications for one type of aircraft," Frank said, still suspicious even though Freddie had released his hold on Frank and was getting to his feet.

"But it's one no one else has," Freddie retorted, holding out a hand to Frank.

Frank took the proffered hand and was hauled to his feet. "You're turning state's evidence?" he asked Freddie.

"Yeah," Freddie said, taking his left hand and rubbing the back of his neck. "I guess I am." He looked into Frank's serious brown eyes. "First thing we have to do is get out of here," he said.

Frank shook his head. "We've got to get Jim Daniels out," he contradicted Freddie.

"Why?" Freddie demanded, his eyes narrowing at Frank.

Still not trusting Freddie, Frank lied. "He's been suspected of stealing government secrets before," he said. "If he gets involved in this, we may not get a chance to bust any of them. Daniels has a habit of shutting down and clearing out in the nick of time."

"I can take care of him," Freddie replied menacingly. "You won't have to worry about him ever again."


	13. Chapter Thirteen

"What are you going to do?" Frank asked sarcastically. "Kill him?" 

"I..." Freddie started, then clamped his mouth shut and looked at Frank. "Not if I'm going straight, huh?" he asked.

Frank shook his head. "Maybe you could get Jim to go somewhere with you and we could have him picked up," he suggested.

This time it was Freddie's turn to shake his head. "No dice," he said. "We all trust him, but Peter's a hard sell. Until he knows Jim's background, Jim isn't allowed to go anywhere without Jeff, except to work where Steve and I are supposed to keep tabs on him."

"Why doesn't Peter trust Jim?" Frank asked, pretending to be surprised.

"Jim Simmons recruited us," Freddie informed Frank. "We all have a little gray in our background," he explained hesitantly.

"What do you mean?" Frank asked, not understanding.

"Jim found out some stuff he could blackmail us with," Freddie explained.

"You don't honestly expect me to believe you were blackmailed into commiting a crime, do you?" Frank sneered, crossing his arms and staring down his nose at Freddie in disbelief.

"No, no, of course not," Freddie quickly denied. "But that's how he got our attention. When he mentioned the amount of money we got--well, none of us could turn it down."

"I noticed when my brother was mentioned, Peter looked at Daniels," Frank said. "Why?"

Freddie shrugged. "He thinks it's funny you and your dad have been seen around but Joe hasn't, even though he escaped." He looked at Frank, curiosity written all over his face. "Where is your brother?" he asked.

"Want to hit him some more?" Frank demanded, his voice cold, his eyes hard.

"I told you, I want to help," Freddie insisted.

"Then let's get out of here and talk to the DA," Frank said.

"If we go up now, they'll kill us," Freddie argued.

"How about if I knock you out and tie you up?" Frank asked him. Freddie made a face. "I can get out on my own and meet up with you tomorrow," he added.

Freddie gave Frank a sour expression but agreed. Freddie went over to a corner and picked up some rope. Handing it to Frank, he sat down and let Frank tie him up. "Sorry about this," Frank said, as he picked up something fairly heavy and brought it down on Freddie's head. Freddie fell sideways, his eyes closed.

Frank checked his pulse, smiling briefly as he thought about what Freddie had done to Joe and how much he had enjoyed hitting Freddie just now. Then he climbed the stairs and eased open the basement door. He could still hear most of the gang talking in the living room but the absence of Joe's voice made him believe Joe was still upstairs with Jim.

Frank exited the basement, closing the door behind him and left the house through the kitchen door. Outside, he ran down the drive and started home, not even pausing for breath until he had put at least a mile between himself and the house he had just escaped from.

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"Sit down, Jim," Jim Simmons told Joe once they had entered Joe's bedroom and shut the door. "I think it's time we got to know each other a little better."

"What do you want to know?" Joe asked warily.

"Let's start with where you live," Jim suggested.

"Here for the time being," Joe replied with a sardonic smile. "But if you mean when I first started at Thompson, I've been hanging out with a friend of mine who had a semi-permanent room at the motel on Buddapest Ave," he stated. "I moved out of there and in with Biff yesterday," he added.

"Tell me about your family," Jim said.

"Can't," Joe replied with a carefree shrug. "I grew up in a variety of foster homes. I never did get adopted."

"If I checked your personnel file at Thompson, what would it tell me?" Jim asked.

"If you haven't already checked it, then you aren't bright enough to deserve to know," Joe proclaimed in the same calm tone Jim had been using.

"Okay," Jim said after staring unflinchingly into Joe's eyes for a minute. "Let's cut to the chase. There's a reason the stolen contract from Hanover didn't bother you. Why?" he demanded.

"It's my business," Joe improvised.

"Which is why you were so easily caught by that imbecile at Thompson?" Jim asked, his eyebrows raised in disbelief.

"I wasn't caught," Joe said. "And he played his part well," he added.

"What do you mean?" Jim demanded, his eyes narrowing on Joe.

"I wanted in," Joe explained. "So I paid him to follow me and act like he had caught me stealing classified info."

"He has security clearance," Jim skeptically replied. "He wouldn't help you get involved with us."

Joe smiled. "Everyone has a price," he replied. "Especially when you've got compromising pictures. Besides, I have security clearance too," he added. "How foolproof do you think it is?"

"You're into blackmail too?" Jim inquired.

"Whatever it takes," Joe said, standing up and looking Jim in the eyes. "I've had nothing but hand-me-downs and used goods all my life and I'm sick of it. I looked at Steve's files while I was working on the outlet and saw a little of what he was into. It looked interesting."

"And I suppose Shandra inviting you over was part of your plan?" Jim demanded.

"Oh, no," Joe denied. "I had no idea when she invited me that she, or you, were involved. But how could any red-blooded male turn down an invitation from her?"

"Well," Jim said, turning away from Joe and heading for the door. "Shall we join the others?" Joe followed Jim back downstairs where Shandra took his arm and led him outside for an evening stroll.

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"Thanks," Frank said to the off-duty police officer who had picked him up and given him a lift home. Frank got out of the car and went inside. He found his father in his office and went inside. He told his dad about being kidnapped, Freddie's defection, letting Freddie think Joe was a traitor and about why Peter thinks Jim Daniels might be Joe.

"Did you find out Peter's last name?" Mr. Hardy inquired.

"Carrauthers," Frank answered. "Do you think he's related to the bank's president?"

"They are brothers," Mr. Hardy replied. "But they've never gotten along."

"Considering what Peter is involved in, I'd say that was good for Andrew," Frank commented.

"And Joe," Mr. Hardy added, standing up and moving out from behind his desk. "Let's go," he said, heading for the door.

"Where to?" Frank questioned, following his dad downstairs and out of the house.

"Andrew Carruathers'," Mr. Hardy said after they had gotten into the car. "If he will leak that Joe has been working undercover at the bank to Peter, then Joe will get some of the heat off of him," he explained. "After that, I will take you to pick up your van. Tomorrow, you go back to Thompson Security and see what Joe has divulged about himself. I'll set him up a cover which would convince anyone," Mr. Hardy vowed.

They arrived at Andrew Carruther's house at almost ten. "Come in," Andrew invited them in when he answered the door. He ushered them into a spacious living room where they sat on a black leather sofa. Andrew sat across from them on a matching Lazy-boy chair.

"Have you found Joe?" Andrew asked Mr. Hardy with concern. "I hadn't seen anything about his kidnapping in the Bayport Times."

"Joe's fine," Mr. Hardy assured the man. "But I need a favor from you," he continued. "I can't go into the details, but we need you to leak out some information."

"What kind?" Andrew asked, paying close attention.

"We would like you to let someone know, in a round-a-bout way, that Joe has been working undercover at your bank," Mr. Hardy requested.

"Of course," Andrew readily agreed. "To who and why?"

"Your brother, Peter," Frank answered.

"Peter?" Andrew asked, raising his eyebrows. At Mr. Hardy's nod, Andrew sighed and shook his head. "I'm not totally surprised," Andrew admitted. "He always was a bad egg."

"He's been in trouble?" Frank asked quickly.

Andrew shook his head. "Oh, no," he denied. "When we were children, he was always doing something he shouldn't, then making it look like I was the guilty party."

"He's doing that again, but with other people," Frank informed him.

"Peter is the one responsible for the robbery?" Andrew asked.

"I'm afraid so," Mr. Hardy responded.

"But why?" Andrew wondered, his face held a wounded look. "Why would he do this to me?"

"He didn't really do it to you," Frank said sympathetically. "He just had to do something via the First National Bank."

Andrew wanted to ask more questions but was wise enough to know when to quit. He picked up the phone from the table beside him and set it on his lap. He lifted the receiver and punched in his brother's number. Peter answered on the third ring.

"Hello Andrew," Peter greeted his caller. "And to what do I owe the pleasure of your call?" he asked affably.

"I thought you might be worried about the robbery since you are such a large account holder," Andrew replied, leaning back in his chair as he spoke and looking at the Hardys.

"Oh, have the police come up with any leads?" Peter asked casually.

"Not the police, exactly," Andrew answered. "But I've hired some detectives to take care of the investigation. One has been working undercover at my bank while the other two have been following other leads," he informed Peter smoothly.

"And who have you retained to solve the crime?" Peter asked.

"I'm really not at liberty to say," Andrew said. "But since you are my brother, I suppose it wouldn't hurt to tell you they are a local family operation."

"Ah, yes," Peter replied. "I know of whom you speak. Excellent," he said. "I'm sure they will find the culprits in no time. I hate to cut this short," he added, "but I 'm afraid I have guests and must return."

"Of course," Andrew replied. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," Peter returned, and hung up the phone.

Andrew put the receiver back on the phone's base and set it back down on the table. He repeated Peter's part of the conversation. "Would you like for Joe to work at the bank?" he asked Mr. Hardy.

"That won't be necessary," Mr. Hardy replied with a smile. "Peter just needs to believe he is working there."

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The next morning, Frank arrived at Thompson Security in his disguise. He found Joe working on the second floor, one office over from the one he shared with Anthony. He handed Joe a small black pouch. "Here's the make up for your disguise," he said, keeping his voice low so no one walking by outside could hear.

"Thanks," Joe said, taking it and shoving it into his pants pocket. "This face couldn't have lasted another eight hours."

"Listen, Dad's set you up as a traitor," Frank informed Joe. He then told Joe about Freddie's desire to turn state's evidence and having Andrew let Peter think Joe was working at the bank. By the time Frank had finished speaking, Joe had a big grin on his face.

"Perfect," Joe declared, then told Frank about his conversations with Jim and Peter. "I still don't know why Peter has a personal vendetta against Hanover," Joe ended.

"I'll talk to the Hanovers this afternoon," Frank promised. "They might know. In the meantime, be careful. It would probably be better if Biff fills you in on your new identity," he added. "I'll call him later and you can talk to him before you leave work."

Joe agreed and Frank left the room. A few minutes later, Freddie came into the room. "You have to go," he ordered Joe.

"Where to?" Joe asked with a sigh. He was getting tired of these unplanned trips.

"To the sub-basement," Freddie said. "You have to meet Steve there," he siad before leaving the room.

Joe raised his eyebrows at this, but put his hammer down and headed to the steps. The elevator was still shut down. The lighting was terrible, so Joe pulled out his flashlight and followed the beam down the stairs. He hadn't taken more than three steps past the first floor entrance when the door opened. Before Joe could turn around, strong hands pushed into Joe's back. Joe fell forward down the narrow steps into the sub-basement.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

The door shut and locked behind Joe's unknown attacker. Joe lay still for several minutes before rising shakily to his feet. Sore, but feeling nothing broken, he climbed the steps to the first floor. After checking the knob to see if it would turn, he pulled up his pants leg and removed a nail file, which had been filed down in places to resemble the fittings of a key. Joe knelt by the lock and inserted the file. A minute later, the lock sprang open and Joe opened the door. 

Joe made his way to the restroom and quickly repaired his disguise. Either Freddie or Steve had just tried to kill him and he intended to find out why.

Joe left the restroom and headed back to the second floor. He had just picked up his hammer when Steve came into the office looking for him. "Ah, there you are," Steve said, smiling at Joe. "It's almost over and..."

Steve's last words were lost as Joe leapt to his feet and grabbed him by the throat, pushing him up against the wall. "Why did you just try to kill me?" Joe demanded, his voice low and gutteral.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Steve managed to wheeze.

"You didn't tell Freddie for me to meet you in the sub-basement a few minutes ago?" Joe demanded.

"No," Steve croaked. Joe glared at him. "Honest."

Believing him, Joe released his throat and stepped back. "Then it was Freddie who tried to kill me," Joe declared.

"We're all getting together at Peter's again tonight," Steve told Joe, a frown on his face. "We'll make Freddie explain then."

"We?" Joe asked, lifting an eyebrow in question.

"You said Freddie said I wanted to see you," Steve reminded Joe. "That means he was trying to blame me for trying to kill you." He looked at Joe questioningly. "What did he do to you anyway?"

"He shoved me down the steps toward the boiler," Joe replied grimly.

"So, if you hadn't caught yourself, you would have hit the boiler and gotten seriously burned if not worse," Steve observed as he was leaving.

But he hadn't caught himself, Joe thought, going back to work. If he had been pushed harder, and he was positive Freddie could have, then Steve was right. Had Freddie just wanted to scare him? And if so, why?

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Frank returned home and told his father about his conversation with Joe. "Good, good," Mr. Hardy said, rubbing his hands together. "We can build on that. I'm setting up a file with the CIA on Jim Daniels. He is going to be as slick as Andrew claimed Peter was," he added. He picked up a sheet of paper and handed it to Frank. "This is all I could come up with on Peter Carruthers."

Frank looked at the fax his father had handed him. Peter Carruthers had received three parking tickets and one speeding ticket in his life. He had also been arrested for participation in a riot to allow MTV to be seen on campus while he was in college. The time served was brief, tweny-four hours, as the college had dropped all charges and re-installed the channel.

"This is it?" Frank asked, looking back up and returning the paper to his father. "This isn't worth shaking a stick at."

"Right," agreed Mr. Hardy. Then he handed Frank another FAX. "This, however, is a list of suspected activities, none of which could be proven."

This FAX listed such crimes as espionage and sabotage against the USA. Frank gave a low whistle. "If we can nab him for the theft at Hanover and/or the attempted selling of the documents of an actual aircraft, then they would throw the book at him."

Mr. Hardy nodded his head in agreement. "Let me finish with Joe's cover and then you can call Biff," he said. "Then I want you to go back to Hanover's and see if he knows what Peter Carruthers has against him."

Frank went to his room to dispense with his disguise while his dad worked on Joe's cover. When he had finished, he returned to his father's office. "Dad," Frank said as he entered. "I have an idea."

Mr. Hardy looked up at his son expectantly. Frank took a chair in front of his dad's desk and leaned forward. "If we could get Freddie, Steve and Greg out of the way, we could concentrate on the stolen DOD contract."

"What did you have in mind?" Mr. Hardy inquired.

"We know Carruthers is planning on laying the blame on those three but we don't know how," Frank began. "Freddie already wants to turn state's evidence. What if he could convince Steve and Greg to confess before Carruathers and the others finish what they are doing? Then Carruthers won't have any place to lay the blame."

"Go on," Mr. Hardy encouraged Frank. "We'll have the CIA pick up Freddie. He'll talk and that will give them a reason to pick up the other two. When they realize they could get in trouble as traitors, I'm sure they'll tell everything. We have the virus as evidence. We just have to find the accounts they have put their shares of the money in and that should be easy for the CIA," he concluded.

"That isn't a bad idea," Fenton congratulated him. "And Joe's cover will help immensely."

"How so?" Frank queried.

"If Joe could let slip the CIA has a file on him, then that might shake them up and at the same time make Carruthers trust him," Mr. Hardy stated.

"He might even decide to pin the whole thing on Joe," Frank said thoughtfully, understanding where his father was going.

"Which would be perfect," Mr. Hardy said. "If he tries to pin it on Joe and it doesn't work out, which it couldn't with the CIA knowing about Joe's cover, then Carruthers would have to be indicated in this case."

"Unless he puts it on Ardenholdt, Jeff and the Simmons'," Frank pointed out.

Mr. Hardy smiled. "I've got an idea about those," he said.

"Oh?" Frank asked with the lift of an eyebrow.

"That's what I'm working on today," Mr. Hardy said and handed Frank a sheet of paper. "Go call Biff and then head over to Hanover's."

Frank took the paper and left his father's office. He stopped by the phone in the hall and called Thompson Security and asked to speak to Biff Hooper. A couple of minutes later, Biff answered. "Hello," he said into the receiver as he lifted it to his ear.

"Biff, I've got Joe's cover set up. Give it to him and tell him he needs to let slip he has a profile with the CIA," Frank said.

"Will do," Biff promised. "Let her rip."

Frank read from the sheet in his hand, "James Daniels, orphan and suspected terrorist."

"Terrorist?" Biff interrupted.

Frank silently read down the paper he held and grinned. "Yeah, Dad's got Joe set up so he could sell the aircraft once it's been assembled or just the parts," he explained. "Jim Daniels has been associated with terrorists in different countries but more recently, he has been seen in Iran. No one has been able to pin anything on him and he hasn't been seen in almost four months. He was reported killed in Iran in a bombing."

"Killed?" Biff asked.

"I guess that is so he could get a job with security clearance," Frank replied. "He would have had to obtain a new social security number, but as a terrorist, that would be no problem."

"You are talking like Jim is a real person," Biff commented with a grin.

"Until this case is over, he is," Frank replied earnestly. "I'm leaving for Hanover's now, but if you need me, I'll have my cell phone."

"Gotcha," Biff replied. "I'll talk to Joe as soon as I can," he promised before hanging up.

Frank arrived at Hanover Industries a little over an hour later. He went straight to Hanover's office and met Marcia at her desk.

"Hello," Marcia greeted Frank, standing up as he came closer.

"Hi," Frank returned the greeting. "I need to see your husband. We've found out who is behind your problem."

"That's great news!" she enthused. "Why aren't you happier?"

"Do you mind if we discuss this with your husband present?" Frank asked her with an apologetic smile. "Then I won't have to keep repeating myself."

"Oh, of course," she said, then led the way into Doug's office. "Darling," Marcia said as she and Frank entered the office. "The Hardys have found the culprits."

"Marvelous!" Doug boomed, standing up and coming over to shake Frank's hand in greeting. "Who is it?"

"Do you know a Peter Carruthers?" Frank asked. Doug's smile faded and Marcia let out a gasp of surprise. "You do know him," Frank observed. "How?"

"Peter is my ex-husband," Marcia answered Frank. "I started going out with Doug a couple of months before our divorce finalized."

"That would explain the personal vendetta," Frank said thoughtfully.

"Excuse me?" Doug asked for clarification.

Frank explained about the plot to get Doug in trouble with the Internal Revenue Service via the computer virus.

"I don't believe it," Marcia said, shocked. "I'm so sorry," she apologized to Doug, her eyes bright.

"Ssh," Doug said, going over and taking her in his arms. "You've nothing to be sorry for," he told her, taking her chin in his hand and lifting her face so that she was looking into his eyes. "No one has any control over what Peter does, except Peter," he said firmly.

"But..." she began, but he put a finger to her lips and silenced her.

"Not another word," Doug insisted and gave her a quick kiss on the lips. He turned back to Frank, still holding his wife close. "And he is behind everything?"

Frank nodded. "The First National Bank was robbed as a cover to set-up and transfer funds to a special account in your name."

"When are you going to arrest him?" Doug inquired.

"Hopefully, today or tomorrow," Frank replied.

"Hopefully?" Doug demanded an explanation.

"He is covering his tracks," Frank told the Hanovers. "Right now, all we have is verbal testimony. That's not going to get him convicted."

"Then what are you going to do?" Marcia asked.

"We have a plan," Frank said. "My dad is working out the details now. We just needed to know why Carruthers had targeted you personally," he said apologetically to Doug.

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It was almost quitting time before Biff had a chance to talk to Joe. "Boy, am I glad to see you," Joe said when Biff walked into the room where he was laying carpet. "Has Dad fixed my cover?"

"Oh, yeah," Biff replied with a grin, then told Joe what Frank had told him. When he finished, he headed for the door. "Remember to let it slip about the CIA," Biff added before leaving.

Joe put his tools away and headed downstairs and outside after making a quick stop in the bathroom to check his disguise.

Steve and Freddie were waiting by the gate when Joe got there. They all walked to Steve's car and went straight to Peter's house.

Shandra and Jim were the last to arrive. Shandra saw Joe's set face and went over to sit beside him on the sofa. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"Someone tried to kill Jim today," Steve answered for him. "And tried to frame me for it," he added, glaring at Freddie and turning the statement into an accusation.

"Freddie?" Peter asked, looking at him.

"He's a traitor," Freddie snarled. "He deserves to die."

"It was established last night, that we can all be classified as traitors," Greg pointed out.

"Yeah, but we don't specialize in it," Freddie retorted.

"What?" Peter, Jim, Steve, and Shandra all demanded at once, while the others present turned to stare at Joe.

Joe was thrilled. This was the perfect opportunity for him. "You've been hacking into the CIA files," Joe accused Freddie with a frown. "Not a wise thing to do at the present."

"Is this true, Freddie?" Peter demanded, looking at Joe with interest.

"Uh, yeah," Freddie answered. He couldn't very well tell them he had gotten his information from Frank Hardy.

"What is in your file?" Peter asked Joe.

Joe shrugged. "I have connections," he admitted. "I've sold a few things."

"You conned your way into our group," Peter said shrewdly.

Joe nodded. "I already had a buyer lined up for the aircraft," he lied. "You gave me no choice."

"You like to play hardball?" Jim asked Joe.

"It's the only way to get anywhere," Joe replied, looking him in the eyes. "To begin with, if I were running this show, I would eliminate the package in the basement," he stated.

"Um, there is no package in the basement," Steve said.

"You already killed him?" Joe inquired with a smile, knowing full well Frank had escaped.

"You and Shandra were outside when we found Freddie tied up in the basement," Jeff said.

"Frank Hardy managed to free himself and overpower Freddie when he went to check on him last night," Peter informed Joe.

"He hit me over the head as I went down the stairs," Freddie lied defensively.

Joe's face hardened. "If he tells his old man he saw me, we're in big trouble."

"Then we'll just have to step up our plans," Jim said.

"I've got a better idea," Joe said. "Why don't I pay you, say, twenty million dollars, for the aircraft plans and take off? You can keep the supplies you have acquired to construct it."

"I don't think so," Peter replied, frowning at Joe. "You are definitely more than you appear to be."


	15. Chapter Fifteen

"What's that supposed to mean?" Joe inquired, his tone menacing, although his stomach had just tied itself into knots. 

"It means, you have been lying to us since your arrival at Thompson Security," Peter answered. "Oh, I do believe you have a file with the CIA. I also believe you joined up with us at your discretion, not ours," he continued. "But what I am convinced of is that your buyer is ready to pay you much more than you are willing to share."

"Twenty million is more than a fair price for you and the others when all I want are the specifications," Joe pointed out.

"Indeed," Peter agreed. "But how much have you been offered?"

"And who is your buyer?" Freddie demanded.

"Iran," Joe answered Freddie first. "That is all I can tell you," he added. "As for the offer, well, it isn't as much as I would like, but my buyer is a regular customer so I agreed to cut him a break."

"You were planning to double-cross us?" Shandra demanded, looking at Joe with a hurt expression.

"No," Joe denied. "I was going to lead you to my buyer, but with Hardy in the picture, and the CIA," he added, throwing Freddie a dirty look, "there isn't time. The plans will have to do instead of the product."

"All right," Kevin said. "Freddie, Steve, and Greg can take their money and split. They weren't involved in this side of the business anyway."

"Good," said Steve. "How do we get our money?"

Jim pulled out his wallet and removed four cards. He gave one each to Steve, Greg, and Freddie. "This one was for you," he told Joe, holding up the last one. "But I guess you have bigger fish to fry," he added, slipping the card back into his wallet.

"What is this?" Freddie asked, looking at the card in puzzlement.

"Accounts are too easy to trace," Jim stated. "So, Kevin and I took the money and converted it into bonds. Those cards are keys. They each have a number on them corresponding with a locker at the airport."

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"Good, you're back," Mr. Hardy said as Frank walked into the kitchen. Mr. Hardy was sitting at the kitchen table, a half-eaten sandwich lying on a plate in front of him.

"I found Carruthers' connection to the Hanovers," Frank said, opening a cabinet and pulling out a plate and glass. He told his dad about his meeting with the Hanovers as he scrounged around in the fridge for sandwich fixings. He made himself a sandwich and poured a glass of milk, then, after returning the items to the refrigerator, sat down at the table with his father.

"Shortly after six, the police got an anonymous phone call," Mr. Hardy told Frank as he took a bite of his sandwich. "Freddie's, Steve's, and Greg's addresses were given as places where stolen shipments from Thompson Security could be found."

Frank swallowed before speaking. "So Carruthers and the others are trying to pin the stolen DOD contract on them."

"Yes," Mr. Hardy agreed, a thoughtful look on his face.

"What?" Frank asked.

"When they are arrested, what is to keep them from squealing on Carruthers?" Mr. Hardy asked the question he had been puzzling over ever since receiving the call from the police earlier.

"Have they raided their places yet?" Frank inquired.

"Yes," Mr. Hardy said. "There were various cases of materials at each of the residences," he said. "But none of them have been caught yet."

Frank was about to say something but a knock at the kitchen door prevented him from doing so. He was surprised to see who it was, but opened the door and allowed Freddie to come inside.

Freddie entered and saw Mr. Hardy sitting at the table. He laid the card Jim had given him on the table in front of Mr. Hardy.

"What is this?" Mr. Hardy asked, picking it up for a look.

"It's a key to a locker at the airport," Freddie told him. "Like I told your son, I'm no traitor. And if that means giving up my share of five million dollars, so be it."

"Where are the others?" Frank asked.

"Greg and Steve went to the airport to get their shares and then they are leaving the country," Freddie answered. "The others are at Peter's. They're going to set up a meeting with Jim Daniels' buyer from Iran. Well, Jim and Peter are going to meet the buyer. The others are going to wait at Peter's until the deal goes through."

"Do you know where or when the meeting is supposed to..." Mr. Hardy began but was interrupted by the jangling of the phone.

"Hardy residence," Frank said, picking up the phone. "Oh, hi Phil," he said, recognizing the voice on the other end as belonging to a good friend of his from school. Frank was quiet for a few minutes as Phil spoke. "Yeah, thanks a lot," Frank said finally and hung up.

Frank looked over at his dad. "The meeting is to take place tomorrow morning at six under Pier Five," he informed his dad. "Fifty million is our bargaining chip."

"What?" Freddie asked, looking from one Hardy to the other in confusion.

"I lied to you," Frank told him. "Jim Daniels isn't a traitor. He's my brother."

Freddie went white with shock. "But he..." Freddie started, then went silent.

"He what?" Mr. Hardy asked.

"He convinced Peter and Kevin and the others that he had a history with the CIA. They think he's been selling top secret materials and wormed his way into the gang to get his hands on the DOD contract," Freddie said, having decided it was better not to tell them he had tried to get Daniels out of the picture earlier.

"That's what he was supposed to do," Frank informed Freddie.

"But what happens when they go to meet the buyer and there isn't one?" Freddie asked.

"By that time, they should all be under arrest, except for Carruthers of course." Mr. Hardy said, rising from his chair and going to the phone. He called the police and informed them Freddie was at his house and wished to plea bargain.

While they waited for the police to arrive, Frank and Mr. Hardy questioned Freddie. "Who attacked the guard at Hanover?" Frank asked.

"Kevin," Freddie answered. "After attacking you the previous day, he was afraid to be seen there, but he needed to see Jim," he explained.

"Why did you kidnap Joe in the first place?" Mr. Hardy inquired.

"He got too good a look at Kevin," Freddie replied. "Kevin wanted to kill him but then Greg told us who he was and we thought he would make a better hostage," he said with a derisive laugh. "We never imagined the kid could get out of the warehouse with handcuffs on."

"Who stole the shipments at Thompson?" Frank asked.

"Shandra fixed the invoices and Steve and I actually took the stuff," Freddie told them. "We delivered it to Jim's place. I don't know what he did with it."

"He left it at your apartment, as well as Greg's and Steve's," Frank informed him.

"What?" Freddie demanded. Mr Hardy told Freddie about the anonymous call and the subsequent searches. "They were setting us up for the fall?" Freddie demanded in disbelief. "Then why give us the money?"

A very good question, which went unanswered as the police arrived. Freddie was taken into custody and the Hardys accompanied Chief Collig to the airport. Steve and Greg were caught before they could get to their lockers. When informed of the physical evidence found at their addresses, both men were prepared to make a full confession.

"Something doesn't feel right about this," Frank said as Chief Collig held out one of the card keys ready to enter the corresponding locker. "If they were setting these guys up, then why give them the money? Why let them live to tell about Carruthers and the others?"

Chief Collig put his hand down and backed up from the locker. "Bomb?" he queried, looking at Mr. Hardy.

Mr. Hardy nodded. "Makes sense," he agreed, glancing with pride at his eldest son.

Chief Collig ordered a bomb squad and evacuated the terminal. Less than two hours later, the three bombs, along with a fourth in another locker, had been located and defused. "The fourth one must have been meant for Joe," Mr. Hardy stated.

Chief Collig looked at Mr. Hardy. "Your call," he said. "When do you want us to move against the others? I have just been informed that the three men in custody have made a full confession with signed affidavits."

"First, go to Thompson Security and go through everything Shandra Simmons has been associated with there. No one will find out about the search until tomorrow and by then, the meeting will have taken place and they should all be in custody," Frank said.

"If you could wait until six a.m. to arrest the others, then Carruthers won't have any idea what is going on and he will be at the meeting with Joe. We can arrest him there after he hands over the contract," Mr. Hardy added.

Later that evening, Mr. Hardy shut himself up in his office and arranged for the meeting between Joe, Carruthers and the buyer. After half an hour, Mr. Hardy came out of his office and joined Frank in his bedroom. "It's set," he told Frank. "We'll head down to the pier and be in place by four-thirty."

"Are we taking the money?" Frank asked, wondering how his dad was going to come up with that much.

"No, not really," Mr. Hardy replied. "The CIA recently obtained a new printing press and the bills it made. They are going to have the money, all counterfeit, ready and waiting for Carruthers and your brother."

Frank frowned. "I don't like working with the CIA," he said.

"They aren't my agency of choice either," Mr. Hardy admitted. "But this case is their territory. "Don't worry," he continued, knowing why Frank was upset. "Joe will be fine."

Frank nodded, knowing his dad was right, but still feeling a bit uptight. "Let's go to bed," Mr. Hardy said, rising and heading toward the door. "We have to get an early start tomorrow."

The next morning, at a few minutes before six, Joe and Carruthers arrived at the pier. Jeff had accompanied them as a driver and bodyguard. They waited patiently as a rowboat, obviously sent from a yacht farther out, neared the area. As the boat came closer, two copper skinned men leapt out and pulled the boat on up to the shore, where another copper skinned man with dark eyes and hair disembarked. He came up to the threesome waiting for him and looked at Joe.

"These are the partners you mentioned over the phone?" he asked Joe in a voice, thick with accent.

Joe nodded his head once. "Have you our money?" he asked.

The man snapped his fingers and the two men who had jumped off the boat, reached back into the boat and returned with four briefcases. "Twelve and a half million dollars in each," the man stated, snapping his fingers again. The men set the briefcases down on the sand and opened them up for inspection.

"And now, the plans?" the man asked, holding out his hand.

Peter opened his shirt and pulled out several folded papers and handed them to the man.

The man looked the papers over, folded them up, and stepped closer to Joe. "What is this?" he demanded. "Do you really think these are worth anything?"

"What do you mean?" Joe asked, confused.

"These are old. We already have these in our possession and you expect me to give you fifty million American dollars for them?" The man grabbed Joe's arm and pulled out a gun. "For this you will die," he added, pulling Joe backward toward the boat as the other two men surged forward, weapons drawn.

"Those are new plans," Peter insisted as the men advanced. "They were just taken a few weeks ago," he said. "You are mistaken. If you don't want to purchase them, return them and keep your money," he said. "I have another buyer anyway."

"Then why come to me?" the man asked, still holding a gun on Joe.

"You offered more," Peter said. "But I can still get twenty-five million for them."

"Pah, who would pay for old information?" the man said, spitting in disgust.

"Does it matter?" Peter inquired. "They are my plans. I had them taken and they are mine to do with as I choose."

"But Jim took them," the man argued. "I made the deal with him."

"I got to the plans before he did. They are mine," Peter insisted.

"That's right," Jeff asserted. "I helped him."

"Really?" asked the man, his thick accent gone as he released Joe and stepped in front of him. "That's what we were waiting to hear."

Peter's eyes narrowed as all weapons were trained on him and Jeff. "What is this?" he demanded.

"It's called a sting," Joe told him as the two men were placed in handcuffs and read their rights.

"Joe Hardy, I presume," Peter stated as more agents and Frank and Mr. Hardy arrived on the scene. Joe grinned at the man as he was led away.

"Good job," the CIA man congratulated the Hardys as he joined his men and headed toward the road where their vehicles were parked. Two agents took the boat and started back out toward the yacht. The counterfeit money was taken by another set of agents.

"Wow," Joe said, after hugging his brother and dad in greeting. "Where were they all hiding?"

"Back there," Mr. Hardy informed Joe, pointing to a place just out of sight.

"They had bugs planted in the sand around here," Frank stated, as another agent started digging up little places every few feet. "And great binoculars," he added.

"What about Shandra and the others?" Joe asked.

"Chief Collig was going to arrest them this morning, but when the CIA arrived, they took over and arrested them as soon as you, Jeff and Carruathers left his house this morning," Mr. Hardy informed Joe.

"What happened to Greg, Freddie, and Steve?" Joe asked. "Did they get caught too?"

"Oh, yes," Frank said with a grin. "When they found out not only were they not getting any money and had been framed, they were willing to confess. But when they found out the lockers where their take was supposed to be had been rigged to blow them up, they wouldn't shut up."

"They told everything," Mr. Hardy concurred. "They even offered to show how they did their part of the crime and how to fix the damages."

"Fantastic!" Joe said. "But I do feel sorry for Mr. Carruthers."

"Peter?" Frank demanded in disbelief.

Joe shook his head, "Andrew," he said. "It would be terrible to see your own brother arrested as a traitor."

"I know what you mean," Frank said, looking at Joe. He grinned and ruffled Joe's hair. "Welcome back baby brother," he stated.

"Thanks," Joe said, smiling back right before Frank punched his arm. "What was that for?" he asked.

"Turkey for dinner?" Frank asked, referring to the comment Joe had made when he had been tied up.

"Well, you certainly weren't chicken," Joe retorted with a grin, breaking into a run with Frank hot on his heels.

Mr. Hardy laughed at his sons and followed them at a more leisurely pace to the car, glad things were back to normal.

End


End file.
